The collected works of Sir Humphry Davy

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THE

COLLECTED WORKS

OF

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, Bart.

THE

COLLECTED WORKS

OF

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, Bart.

LL.D. F.R.S.

FOREIGN ASSOCIATE OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, ETC.

EDITED BY HIS BROTHER,

JOHN DAVY, M.D. F.R.S.

VOL. IX.
SALMONIA;

AND

CONSOLATION IN TRAVEL,

LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER AND CO. CORNHILL.

1840.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY SlilWAUT AND MURRAY, OLD BAILEY.

S A L M 0 N I A, -%.. % \

DAYS OF FLY-FISHING;

A SERIES OF CONVERSATIONS-^^ y "^ ^

WITH

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF FISHES

BELONGING TO THE GENCS SALMO.

CONSOLATION IN TRAVEL:

\ OR

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\ .Zl'HE UST DAYS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

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LONDON:.
SMITH, ELDER AND CO. CORNHILL.

1840.

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2011 with funding from
Brigham Young University

http://www.archive.org/details/collectedworksof09davy

[This concluding Volume of the Author's Collected Works, contains his
last productions, " Salmonia, or Days of Fly-fishing," and " Consola-
tion in Travel, or the Last Days of a Philosopher ;" the former pub-
lished shortly before his death, the latter after that event.

In the Advertisement to each, the valetudinary circumstances under
which they were written, are briefly noticed, and in the Memoir of his
Life, they are fully detailed.

Both these little works, the productions, not of his idle but of his
languid hours, have been highly praised, and by good fortune, by two of
the best judges and ablest men — the late Sir Walter Scott and Baron
Cuvier.

Sir Walter Scott, in his charming critique on Salmonia, which ap-
peared in the Quarterly Review shortly after the publication of the
first edition, notices it as an illustration of the Scripture impression
" that the gleanings of the grapes of Ephraim are better than the vin-
tage of Abiezer," having previously remarked, that these fruits of the
Author's " languid hours, in which lassitude succeeds to pain, are more
interesting and instructive than the exertion of the talents of others,
whose minds and bodies are in the fullest vigour."

And Baron Cuvier, in his eloge of the Author, as a foreign member
of the Institute, commenting on these writings, remarks on " Sal-
monia," that the curious observations which it contains relative to the
natural history of the trout and salmon " will render it always of im-
portance in the science of ichthyology ;" and speaking of the " Consola-
tion in Travel," he observes, " that once escaped from the laboratory,
he had resumed the tranquil reveries and sublime thoughts which liad
formed the delight of his youth : it was in some measure the work of a
dying Plato."

.'b

viii ADVERTISEMENT.

In this e<lition "the Consolation in Travel" is given precisely as in
the first ; but, with the addition of a fragment of a Dialogue on the
Chemical Elements, written, it is believed, about the same time as that
entitled " the Chemical Philosopher," (forming a part of the work,)
and of which it was at first designed to be a continuation.

In editing Salmonia, the opportunity has been taken to introduce
some alterations made either from the dictation of the Author, who ex-
amined the second edition during his last illness, or in conformity with
wislies which he then expressed.]

CONTENTS.

SALMONIA.

FIRST D,\Y.

Vindication of fly-fishing — Poem in praise of Walton — Distinguished
anglers — Fishing, a natural, philosophical, and scientific pursuit —
Scenery — Fish possessed of little sensibility — Praise of fly-fishing
— Field-sports related to natural history — Proposed fishing ex-
cursion— Comparison of a river to human life . Page 7

SECOND DAY.

Trout fishing — Flies — May-fly and gray-drake — Alder-fly — Object of
fishing — Escape of a fish after being hooked — Sense of smelling
in fish — Baits — The natural fly — Pricked trout — Local habits of
animals — Trout of the Colne — Throwing the fly — ^Trout described
— Spots on trout — Perch — Anecdote — Haunts of trout — Evening
fishing — Management of a fi^li when hooked — Flies of diffTerent
seasons — Fishing season — Difierence of the gillaroo from trout —
Diminution of flies in some rivers — Gillaroo trout found only in
Ireland — Par or samlet — Other varieties of trout — Dr. Darwin —
Experiment on trout by Mr. Tonkin of Polgaron — Cause of the
varieties of trout — Mule fish — Crossing the breed — Impregnation
of the ova of fish — Experiment of Mr. Jacobi on this point —

X CONTENTS.

Causes that hasten or retard the maturity of the ova — Why
fish approach shallows to spawn — Admiration of the designs of
Providence ....... Page 18

THIRD DAY.

Morning fishing — Effect of shadows in fishing — Anecdote illustrating
the effect of sunshine — The swallows ... 59

FOURTH DAY.

Scenery — Eagles — The inn — Tlie Ewe — Sea trout — Salmon — Cause offish
being drowned — Salmon — Death by suffocation — Nature of pain —
Sea trout — Crimping — The dinner — ^The double snipe — Value of
temperance in eating and drinking — Wading in boots a bad prac-
tice— Salmon and trout compared — Varieties of salmon . 64

FIFTH DAY.

Salmon fishing — Produce of a morning's sport — Rivers of Norway and
Sweden — English rivers — Salmon rivers — Scotch rivers — Irish
rivers — The Sabbath day — Instincts — Instincts to animals what
revelation is to man ...... 89

SIXTH DAY.

Flies — Hooks — Salmon of the Ewe — Instinct of fish — Salmon fishing
with pars — Food of Salmon — Indications of rainy weather —
Omens . . . . . . .114

SEVENTH DAY.
Grayling— Anatomy of the grayling — Grayling fishing —Habits of the
grayling — Grayling rivers — Baits for grayling — Generations of eels
— Migration of eels — Eel . . . . .128

EIGHTH DAY.

Scenery— Natural history — Natural history: fish — Natural history:
insects — Libellula — Ephemerae — Entomology . . 150

CONTENTS. XI

NINTH DAY.

Fishing for hucho — Hereditary instinct — Causes of variety in trout —
Salmo hucho — Taking a salmo hucho — Resemblance of the hucho
to trout — Interior of the hucho examined — Habits of the hucho —
Pleasure of angling — Lame boy and his boats — Amusements — Sea
serpent — Kraken — Mermaid — Austrian method of conveying fish
— Education — The press — Effect of continuous fishing — Difference
of rivers — Angling for frogs — Water ouzel — Umbla — Laveret —
Organization of the hucho — Craniology — Fat and flesh of the
hucho — Naturalization offish — The Traun — Colour of water —
Colour of the ocean — Waterfalls — Reflections . Page 162

CONSOLATION IN TRAVEL.

DIALOGUE I.
The Vision ...... Page 21

DIALOGUE II.
Discussions connected with the Vision in the Colosseum . 249

DIALOGUE III.
The Unknown ....... 278

DIALOGUE IV.
The Proteus, or Immortality . . . . .313

DIALOGUE V.

The Chemical Philosopher ... . 348

DIALOGUE VI.
Pola, or Time . \ . ..... 368

DIALOGUE VII.
The Chemical Elements ...

DIRECTIONS FOR THE PLATES.

Plate I. . . . to face page 156

157

"•^

III. 3

SALMONIA :

OR

DAYS OF FLY FISHING.

IN

A SERIES OF CONVERSATIONS.

WITH

SOME ACCOUNT OF ^THE HABITS OF FISHES

BELONGING TO THE GENUS SALMO.

" Equidem credo quia sit divinitus illis
Ingenium."

VOL. IX.

TO

WILLIAM BABINGTON, M.D. F.R.S.

THESE CONVEKSATIONS ARE DEDICATED,

IN REMEMBRANCE

OF SOME DELIGHTFUL DAYS PASSED IN HIS

SOCIETY,

AND IN GRATITUDE

FOR AN UNINTERRUPTED FRIENDSHIP OF

A QUARTER OV A CENTURY.

PREFACE.

These pages formed the occupation of the Author
durhig some months of severe and dangerous illness,
when he was wholly incapable of attending to more
useful studies, or of following more serious pursuits.*
They constituted his amusement in many hours, W'hich
otherwise would have been unoccupied and tedious; and
they are published in the hope that they may possess
an interest for those persons who derive pleasure from
the simplest and most attainable kind of rural sports,
and who practise the art, or patronize the objects of
contemplation, of the Philosophical Angler.

The conversational manner and discursive style were
chosen as best suited to the state of health of the
Author, who was incapable of considerable efforts and
long-continued attention ; and he could not but have in
mind a model, which has fully proved the utility and
popularity of this method of treating the subject — The
Complete Angler, by Walton and Cotton.

The characters chosen to support these Conversa-
tions, are — Halieus, who is supposed to be an accom-
plished fly fisher ; Ornither, who is to be regarded as a
gentleman generally fond of the sports of the field,

* [During the winter of 1827-8: a considerable portion of Salmonia
was written in the country, under the roof of his esteemed and attached
friend, the late Mr. Poole, as noticed in this gentleman's interesting,
account of the Author in the 1st Vol.]

6 V PREFACE.

.though not a finished master of the art of angling:
PoiETES, who is to be considered as an enthusiastic lover
of nature, and partially acquainted with the mysteries of
fly fishing ; and Physicus, who is described uninitiated
as an angler, but as a person fond of inquiries in natural
history and philosophy.

These personages are, of course, imaginary, though
the sentiments attributed to them, the Author may
sometimes have gained from recollections of real con-
versations with friends, from whose society much of the
happiness of his early life has been derived ; and, in the
portrait of the character of Halieus, given in the last
dialogue, a likeness, he thinks, will not fail to be recog-
nized to that of the character of a most estimable Phy-
sician, ardently beloved by his friends, and esteemed
and venerated by the public. *

He has limited his description of fish to the varieties
of the Salmo, most usual in the fresh waters of Europe,
and which may be defined as a genus having eight fins,
the one above the tail fleshy, and without spines.

It is to be hoped M. Cuvier's new work on fishes
will supply accurate information on this genus, which is
still very imperfectly known,

Layhach, Illyria^
Sept. 30, 1828.

With respect to this second edition of Salmonia, the
Author has nothing to observe, except that he has en-
larged it by a considerable portion of new matter, which,
he trusts, will not render it less acceptable to the public.

* [The late Dr. Babington ; vide Vol. I. p. 326, for a brief notice ol
this excellent man.]

**r-i^'

SALMONIA :

OR.

^

%■ % ^'

4^%; f-

DAYS OF FLY FISHING.

FIRST DAY.

HALIEUS— POIETES— PHYSICUS— ORNITHER.

INTRODUCTORY CONVERSATION SYMPOSIAC.

Scene, London.

Phys. — Halieus, I dare say you know where this ex-
cellent trout was caught : I never ate a better fish of the
kind.

Hal. — I ought to know, as it was this morning in
the waters of the Wandle, not ten miles from the place
where we sit, and it is through my means that you see
it at table.

Phys. — Of your own catching ?

Hal. — Yes, with the artificial fly.

Phys. — I admire the fish, but I cannot admire the
art by which it was taken ; and I wonder how a man of
your active mind and enthusiastic character, can enjoy
what appears to me a stupid and melancholy occupa-
tion.

Hal. — I might as well wonder, in my turn, that a
man of your discursive imagination and disposition to

8 SALMONIA.

contemplation^ should not admire this occupation, and
that you should venture to call it either stupid or me-
lancholy.

Phys. — I have at least the authority of a great mo-
ralist, Johnson, for its folly.

Hal. — I will allow no man, however great a philo-
sopher or moralist, to abuse an occupation he has not
tried ; and, as well as I remember, this same illustrious
person praised the book and the character of the great
Patriarch of Anglers, Isaac Walton.

Phys. — There is another celebrated man, however,
who has abused this, your patriarch. Lord Byron ; and
that in terms not very qualified. He calls him, as well
as I can recollect, " A quaint old cruel coxcomb."* I
must say, a practice of this great fisherman, where he
recommends you to pass the hook through the body of
a frog with care, as though you loved him, in order to
keep him alive longer, cannot but be considered as
cruel.

Hal. — I do not justify either the expression or the
practice of Walton, in this instance ; but remember, /
fish only with inanimate baits, or imitations of them,
and I will not exhume or expose the ashes of the dead,
nor vindicate the memory of Walton, at the expense of
Byron, who, like Johnson, was no fisherman : but the
moral and religious habits of Walton, his simplicity of
manners, and his well-spent life, exonerate him from
the charge of cruelty ; and the book of a coxcomb would

* From Don Juan, Canto xii. Stanza 106.

" And Angling, too, that solitary vice.
Whatever Isaac Walton sings or says :
The quaint old cruel coxcomb in his gullet
Should have a hook and a small trout to pull it.'*

POEM IN PRAISE OF WALTON. 9

not have been so great a favourite with most persons of
refined taste. A noble ladj, long distinguished at court
for pre-eminent beauty and grace, and whose mind
possesses undying charms, has written some lines in my
copy of Walton, which, if you will allow me, I will re-
peat to you.

Albeit, gentle Angler, I

Delight not in thy trade,
Yet in thy pages there doth lie
So much of quaint simplicity,
So much of mind,
Of sucl\good kind,
That none need be afraid.
Caught by thy cunning bait, this book.
To be ensnared on thy hook.

Gladly from thee, I'm lured to bear

With things that seem'd most vile before,
For thou didst on poor subjects rear
Matter the wisest sage might hear.
And with a grace,
That doth efface
More labour'd works, thy simple lore
Can teach us that thy skilful lines j
More than the scaly brood confines.

Our hearts and senses, too, we see.

Rise quickly at thy master hand,
And, ready to be caught by thee.
Are lured to virtue willingly.
Content and peace,
With health and ease,
Walk by thy side. At thy command
We bid adieu to worldly care.
And joy in gifts that all may share.

Gladly, with thee, I pace along.
And of sweet fancies dream ;
Waiting till some inspired song.
Within my memory cherish'd long,
B 5

3 0 SALMONIA.

Comes fairer forth,
With more of worth ;
Because that time upon its stream
Feathers and chaff will bear away.
But give to gems a brighter ray.

C. C. Igl2.

And though the charming and intellectual author of
this poem is not an angler herself, yet I can quote the
example of her lovely daughters, to vindicate fly fishing
from the charge of cruelty, and to prove that the most
delicate and refined minds can take pleasure in this in-
nocent amusement. One of these young ladies, I am
told, is a most accomplished and skilful salmon fisher.
And if you require a poetical authority against that of
Lord Byron, I mention the philosophical poet of the
lakes, and the author of

" An Orphic tale, indeed,
A tale divine, of high and passionate thoughts,
To their own music chanted ;" *

who is a lover both of fly fishing and fly fishermen.
Gay's poem, you know, and his passionate fondness for
the amusement, which was his principal occupation in
the summer at Amesbury ; and the late excellent John
Tobin, author of the Honey Moon, was an ardent
angler.

Phys. — I am satisfied with your poetical authorities.

Hal. — Nay, I can find authorities of all kinds, states-
men, heroes, and philosophers ; I can go back to Trajan,
who was fond of angling. Nelson was a good fly fisher, f
and as a proof of his passion for it, continued the pur-

* The Friend, p. 303, by S. T. Coleridge.

t I have known a person who fished with him at Merton, in the
Wandle. I hope this circumstance will be mentioned in the next edition
of that most exquisite and touching Life of our Hero, by the Laureate,
an immortal monument raised by Genius to Valour.

DISTINGUISHED ANGLERS. 11

suit even with his left hand. Dr. Paley was ardently
attached to this amusement ; so much so, that when the
Bishop of Durham inquired of him when one of his
most important works would be finished, he said, with
great simplicity and good humour, " My Lord, I shall
work steadily at it when the fly fishing season is over,"
as if this were a business of his life. And I am rather
reserved in introducing living characters, or I could give
a list of the highest names of Britain, belonging to
modern times, in science, letters, arts, and arms, who
are ornaments of this fraternity, — to use the expression
borrowed from the freemasonry of our forefathers.

Phys. — I do not find much difficulty in understand-
ing why warriors, and even statesmen, fishers of men,
many of whom I have known particularly fond of hunt-
ing and shooting, should likewise be attached to angling ;
but I own I am at a loss to find reasons for a love of
this pursuit amongst philosophers and poets.

Hal. — The search after food is an instinct belonging
to our nature ; and from the savage, in his rudest and
most primitive state, who destroys a piece of game, or a
fish, with a club or spear, to man in the most cultivated
state of society, who employs artifice, machinery, and
the resources of various other animals, to secure his ob-
ject, the origin of the pleasure is similar, and its object
the same : but that kind of it requiring most art, may
be said to characterize man in his highest or intellectual
state ; and the fisher for salmon and trout with the fly,
employs not only machinery to assist his physical
powers, but applies sagacity to conquer difficulties ; and
the pleasure derived from ingenious resources and de-
vices, as well as from active pursuit, belongs to this
amusement. Then, as to its philosophical tendency, —
it is a pursuit of moral discipline, requiring patience,

12 SALMON I A.

forbearance, and command of temper. As connected
with natural science, it may be vaunted as demanding a
knowledge of the habits of a considerable tribe of created
beings — fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, —
and an acquaintance with the signs and tokens of the
weather and its changes, the nature of waters, and of
the atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries
us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature :
amongst the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely
streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated
hills, or that make their way through the cavities of cal-
careous strata. Plow delightful in the early spring, after
the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts dis-
appear, and the sunshine warms the earth and waters,
to wander forth by some clear stream, to see the leaf
bursting from the purple bud, to scent the odours of the
bank perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it were,
with the primrose and the daisy ; to wander upon the
fresh turf below the shade of trees, w'hose bright blos-
soms are filled with the music of the bee ; and on the
surface of the waters to view the gaudy flies sparkling
like animated gems in the sunbeams, whilst the bright
and beautiful trout is watching them from below; to
hear the twittering of the water-birds, who, alarmed at
your approach, rapidly hide themselves beneath the
flowers and leaves of the water-lily ; and as the season
advances, to find all these objects changed for others of
the same kind, but better and brighter, till the swallow
and the trout contend, as it were, for the gaudy May
fly, and till, in pursuing your amusement in the calm
and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the songs of
the cheerful thrush and melodious nightingale, perform-
ing the offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented
with the rose and woodbine.

FISH POSSESSED OF LITTLE SENSIBILITY. 13

Phys. — All these enjoyments might be obtained,
without the necessity of torturing and destroying an
unfortunate animal, that the true lover of nature would
wish to see happy in a scene of loveliness.

Hal. — If all men v/ere Pythagoreans, and professed
the Brahmin's creed, it would, undoubtedly, be cruel to
destroy any form of animated life ; but if fish are to be
eaten, I see no more harm in capturing them by skill
and ingenuity with an artificial fly, than in pulling
them out of the water by main force with the net ; and
in general, when taken by the common fishermen, fish
are permitted to die slowly, and to suffer in the air,
from the want of their natural element ; whereas, every
good angler, as soon as his fish is landed, either destroys
his life immediately, if he is wanted for food, or returns
him into the water.

Phys. — But do you think nothing of the torture of
the hook, and the fear of capture, and the misery of
struggling against the powerful rod ?

Hal. — I have already admitted the danger of ana-
lysing, too closely, the moral character of any of our
field sports ; yet I think it cannot be doubted that the
nervous system of fish, and cold-blooded animals in ge-
neral, is less sensitive than that of warm-blooded ani-
mals. The hook usually is fixed in the cartilaginous
part of the mouth, where there are no nerves; and a
proof that the sufferings of a hooked fish cannot be
great, is found in the circumstance that, though a trout
has been hooked and played for some minutes, he will
often, after his escape with the artificial fly in his mouth,
take the natural fly, and feed as if nothing had hap-
pened ; having apparently learned only from the experi-
ment, that the artificial fly is not proper food. And I
have caught pikes with four or five hooks in their

14 SALMONIA.

mouths^ and tackle which they had broken only a few
minutes before ; and the hooks seemed to have had no
other effect, than that of serving as a sort of sauce
piquante, urging them to seize another morsel of the
same kind-

Phys. — Fishes are mute, and cannot plead, even in
the way that birds and quadrupeds do, their own cause ;
yet the instances you quote, only prove the intense
character of their appetites, which seem not so moderate
as Whiston imagined, in his strange philosophical ro-
mance on the Deluge ; in which he supposes in the ante-
diluvian world the heat was much greater than in this ;
and that all terrestrial and aerial animals had their pas-
sions so exalted by this high temperature, that they
were lost in sin, and destroyed for their crimes ; but that
fish, living in a cooler element, were more correct in
their lives, and were therefore spared from the destruc-
tion of the primitive world. You have proved, by your
examples, the intensity of the appetite of hunger in
fishes ; Spalanzani has given us proofs of the extraordi-
nary manner in which a cold-blooded animal, that has
most of the habits of the genus — the frog — persists in
some of its actions, under the impulse of the appetites,
though a limb, or even his head, is separated from the
body.

Hal. — This is likewise in favour of my argument,
that the sensibility of this class of animals to physical
pain, is comparatively small.

Phys. — The advocates for a favourite pursuit never
want sophisms to defend it. I have even heard it as-
serted, that a hare enjoys being hunted. Yet I will
allow that fly-fishing, after your vindication, appears
amongst the least cruel of field-sports ; — I can go no
farther ; as I have never thought of trying it, I can say

IPRAISE OF FLY FISHING. 15

nothing of its agreeableness as an amusement, compared
with hunting and shooting.

Hal. — I wish that you would allow me to convince
you that, for a contemplative man, as you are, and a
lover of nature, it is far superior, more tranquil, more
philosophical, and, after the period of early youth, more
fitted for a moderately active body and mind, requiring
less violent exertion ; and, pursued with discretion, af-
fording an exercise conducive to health. There is a
river, only a few miles off, where I am sure I could ob-
tain permission for you, and our friend Poietes, to fish.

Phys. — I am open to conviction on all subjects, and
have no objection to spend one May-day with you in
this idle occupation ; premising that you take at least
one other companion, who really loves fishing.

Hal. — You, who are so fond of natural history, even
should you not be amused by fishing, will, I am sure,
find objects of interest on the banks of the river.

Phys. — I fear I am not entomologist enough to follow
the life of the May-fly, but I shall willingly have my
attention directed to its habits. Indeed, I have often
regretted that sportsmen were not fonder of zoology ;
they have so many opportunities, which other persons
do not possess, of illustrating the origin and qualities of
some of the most curious forms of animated nature ; the
causes and character of the migrations of animals ; their
relations to each other, and their place and order in the
general scheme of the universe. It has always appeared
to me, that the two great sources of change of place of
animals, were the providing of food for themselves, and
resting-places and food for their young. ^ The great

* [A fact relative to the snipe may be mentioned, which is in accord-
ance with this view. The snipe is very abundant in Ceylon, — and, there
is reason to believe, it never leaves the island, but passes from one side of

16 SALMONIA.

supposed migrations of herrings from the poles to the
temperate zone, have appeared to me to be only the ap-
proach of successive shoals from deep to shallow water,
for the purpose of spawning. The migrations of salmon
and trout, are evidently for the purpose of depositing
their ova, or of finding food after they have spawned.
Swallows and bee-eaters decidedlj^ pursue flies over half
the globe ; the scolopax or snipe tribe, in like manner,
search for worms and larvae — flying from those countries
where either frost or dryness prevents them from boring
— making generally small flights at a time, and resting
on their travels where they find food. And a journey
from England to Africa is no more for an animal that
can fly, with the wind, one hundred miles in an hour,
than a journe^^ for a Londoner to his seat in a distant
province. And the migrations of smaller fishes or birds
always occasion the migration of larger ones, that prey
on them. Thus, the seal follows the salmon, in summer,
to the mouths of rivers ; the hake follows the herring
and pilchard ; hawks are seen in large numbers, in the
month of May, coming into the east of Europe, after
quails and land- rails; and locusts are followed by
numerous birds, that, fortunately for the agriculturist,
make them their prey.

Hal. — It is not possible to follow the amusement of
angling, without having your attention often directed to
the modes of life of fishes, insects, and birds, and many
curious and interesting facts, as it were, forced upon
your observation. I consider you {Physicus) as pledged
to make one of our fishing party ; and I hope, in a few

the island to the other, with the change of Monsoon ; the rainy season
prevailing on one side of the central mountains, whilst the season of
drought prevails on the other side, — so that this bird, merely by crossing
the mountains, can always find moisture and suitable food.]

PROPOSED FISHING EXCURSION. 17

days, to give you an invitation to meet a few worthy
friends on the banks of the Colne. And you (^Poietes)
w^ho, I know, are an initiated disciple of Walton's school,
will, I trust, join us. We will endeavour to secure a
fine day ; two hours, in a light carriage with good
horses, will carry us to our ground ; and I think I can
promise you green meadows, shady trees, the song of
the nightingale, and a full and clear river.

PoiET. — This last is, in my opinion, the most poetical
object in nature. I will not fail to obey your sum-
mons. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a
river to human life. I have never read the passage in
his works ; but I have been a hundred times struck with
the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The
river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from
rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders
through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing
only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray.
In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be com-
pared to the human mind in which fancy and strength
of imagination are predominant — it is more beautiful
than useful. When the different rills or torrents join,
and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately
in its motions ; it is applied to move machinery, to irri-
gate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately
barge ; — in this mature state, it is deep, strong, and
useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force
and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost, and
mingled wdth the mighty abyss of waters.

Hal. — One might pursue the metaphor still further,
and say, that in its origin — its thundering and foam,
when it carries down clay from the bank, and becomes
impure, it resembles the youthful mind, affected by dan-
gerous passions. And the influence of a lake in calming

18 SALMONIA.

and clearing the turbid water, may be compared to the
effect of reason in more mature life, when the tranquil,
deep, cool, and unimpassioned mind is freed from its
fever, its troubles, bubbles, noise and foam. And,
above all, the sources of a river — which may be con-
sidered as belonging to the atmosphere — and its termi-
nation in the ocean may be regarded as imaging the
divine origin of the human mind, and its being ulti-
mately returned to, and lost in, the Infinite and Eternal
Intelligence from which it originally sprung.

SECOND DAY.

HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICUS.

TROUT FISHING, DENHAM. — MAY, 1810.
Morning.

Hal. — I AM delighted to see you, my worthy friends, on
the banks of the Colne ; and am happy to be able to say,
that my excellent host has not only made you free of the
river for this day's angling, but insists upon your dining
with him, — wishes you to try the evening fishing, and
the fishing to-morrow morning, — and proposes to you,
in short, to give up twenty-four hours to the delights of
an angler's May-day.

PoiET. — We are deeply indebted to him ; and I
hardly know how we can accept his offer, without laying
ourselves under too great an obligation.

Hal. — Fear not : he is as noble-minded a man as
ever delighted in good offices ; and so benevolent, that
I am sure he will be almost as happy in knowing you

TROUT FISHING. 19

are amused, as you can be in your sport ; and he hopes
for an additional satisfaction in the pleasure of your
conversation.

PoiET. — So let it be.

Hal. — I will take you to the house ; you shall make
your bow, and then you will be all free to follow your
own fancies. Remember, the dinner hour is five;
the dressing bell rings at half-past four ; be punctual
to this engagement, from which you will be free at
seven.

PoiET. — This is really a very charming villa scene, I
may almost say a pastoral scene. The meadows have
the verdure which even the Londoners enjoy as a
peculiar feature of the English landscape. The river is
clear, and has all the beauties of a trout stream of the
larger size, — there rapid, and here still, and there tum-
bhng in foam and fury over abrupt dams upon clean
gravel, as if pursuing a natural course. And that island
with its poplars and willows, and the flies making it
their summer paradise, and its little fishing-house, are
all in character ; if not extremely picturesque, it is at
least a very pleasant scene, from its verdure and pure
waters, for the lovers of our innocent amusement.

Hal. — It is ten o'clock ; you may put up your rods,
or take rods from the hall: for so hospitable is the
master of this mansion, that every thing is supplied to
our hands. And Physicus, as you are the only one of
our party ignorant of the art of fly fishing, I wall fit you
with a rod and flies ; and let me advise you to begin
with a line shorter than your rod, and throw at first
slowly and without effort, and imitate us as well as you
can. As for precepts they are of little value ; practice
and imitation will make you an angler.

PoiET. — I shall put together my rod, and fish with

20 SALMONIA.

my own flics. It may be fancy, but I always think I
do best with tackle with which I am used to fish.

Hal. — You are right ; for fancy is always some-
thing : and when we believe that we can do things
better in a particular way, we really do, by the influence
of imagination, perform them both better and with less
effort. I agree with moralists, that the standard of
virtue should be placed higher than any one can reach ;
for in trying to rise, man will attain a more excellent
state of being than if no effort w^ere made. But to our
business. As far as the perfection of the material for
the angler is concerned, the flies you find on this table
are as good as can be made, and for this season of the
year, there is no great variety on this river. We have
had lately some warm days, and though it is but the
18th of May, yet I know that the May-fly has been out
for three or four days, and this is the best period of this
destructive season for the fisherman. There are, I ob-
serve, many male flies on the high trees, and some
females on the alders.

Phys. — But T see flies already on the w^ater, which
seem of various colours, — brown and gra}^, and some very
pale, — and the trout appear to rise at them eagerly.

Hal. — The fly you see is called by fishermen the
alder fly, and appears generally in large quantities be-
fore the May-fly. Imitations of this fly, and of the green
and the gray drake of different shades, are the only
ones you will need this morning, though I doubt if the
last can be much used, as the gray drake is not yet on
the water in any quantity.

Phys. — Pray can you give us any account of these
curious little animals ?

Hal. — We ought to draw upon your stores of science
for information on these subjects.

FLIES. 21

Phys. — I really know nothing of Entomology, but I
am desirous of acquiring knowledge.

Hal. — I have made few observations on flies as a phi-
losophical naturalist. What I know I will state at another
time. But see, the green drake is descending upon the
water, and some are leaving the alders to sport in the
sunshine, and to enjoy the pleasures of their brilliant,
though short existence ; and their life, naturally ephe-
meral, is made one of scarcely a moment, by the fishes
and birds : that which the swallow or the duck spares is
caught by the fish. The fly is new, and in the imitation,
I recommend the olive tint, or what the Irish call the
green monkey ; that is, an artificial fly, with a wing of
dyed yellow drake's feather, a body of yellow monkey's
fur, and a small quantity of olive mohair for legs. For
myself, I shall fish for some time wdth a large red alder
fly, and I dare say with as much success ; that is, with
a fly with a dark peacock's harle for body, a red hackle
for legs, and wings of the land-rail below, and starling
above.

PoiET. — The water is quite in motion: what noble
fish I see on the feed ! I never beheld a finer sio;ht,
though I have often seen the May-fly on well-stocked
waters.

Hal. — This river is most strictly preserved ; not a
fish has been killed here since last August, and this is
the moment when the large fish come to the surface,
and leave their cad bait search and minnow hunting.
But I have hardly time to talk; I have hold of a
good fish : they take either alder or May-fly, and having
never been fished for this year, they make no distinc-
tion, and greedily seize any small object in motion on
the water. You see the alder-fly is quite as success-
ful as the May-fly; but there is a fish which has re-

22 SALMONIA.

fused it, and because he has been feeding, glutton-hke,
on the May-flj ; that is the fifth he has swallowed in a
minute. Now I shall throw the drake a foot above him.
It floats down, and he has taken it. A fine fish ; I
think at least 4 lbs. This is the largest fish we have yet
seen, but in the deep water still lower down, there are
still greater fish. One of 5 lbs., I have known taken here,
and once a fish a little short only of 6 lbs.

PoiET. — I have just landed a fish w^hich I suppose you
will consider as a small one ; yet I am tempted to kill
him.

Hal. — He is not a fish to kill, throw him back, he is
much under 2 lbs., and, as I ought to have told you be-
fore, we are not allow^ed to kill any fish of less size ;
and I am sure we shall all have more than we ought to
carry away even of this size. Pray put him into the
well, or rather give him to the fisherman to turn back
into the water.

PoiET. — I cannot say I approve of this manner of
fishing : I lose my labour.

Hal. — As the object of your fishing, I hope, is inno-
cent amusement, you can enjoy this, and show your
skill in catching the animal ; and if every fish that took
the May-fly were to be killed, there would be an end to
the sport in the river, for none would remain for next
year.

Phys. — The number of flies seems to increase as the
day advances, and I never saw a more animated water
scene : all nature seems alive ; even the water- wagtails
have joined the attack upon these helpless and lovely
creations from the waters.

Hal. — It is now one o'clock ; and betw^een twelve and
three is the time when the May-fly rises with most
vigour. It is a very warm day, and with such a quan-

OBJECT OF FISHING. 23

tity of fly, every fish in the river will probably be soon
feeding. See, below the weir, there are two or three
large trout lately come out ; and from the quiet way in
which they swallow their prey, and from the size of the
tranquil undulation that follows their rise, I suspect they
are the giants of this river. Try if you cannot reach
them ; one is near the bank in a convenient place for a
throw, for the Avater is sufficiently rough to hide the de-
ception, and these large fish do not take the fly well in
calm water, though with natural flies on the hook they
might all be raised.

PoiET. — I have him ! Alas ! he has broken me, and
carried away half my bottom line. He must have been
a fish of 7 or 8 lbs. What a dash he made ! He carried
off* my fly by main force.

Hal. — You should have allowed your reel to play
and your line to run : you held him too tight.

PoiET. — He was too powerful a fish for my tackle ;
and even if I had done so, would probably have broken
me by running amongst the weeds.

Hal. — Let me tell you, my friend, you should never
allow a fish to run to the weeds, or to strike across the
stream; you should carry him always down stream,
keeping his head high, and in the current. If in a
weedy river you allow a large fish to run up stream, you
are almost sure to lose him. There, I have hooked the
companion of your lost fish on the other side of the
stream, — a powerful creature : he tries, you see, to make
way to the weeds, but I hold him tight.

PoiET. — I see you are obliged to run with him, and
have carried him safely through the weeds.

Hal. — I have him now in the rapids on the shallow,
and I have no fear of losing him, unless he strikes the
hook out of his mouth.

24 SALMONIA.

PoiET. — He springs again and again.

Hal. — He is off; in one of these somersets he de-
tached the steel, and he now leaps to celebrate his
escape. We will leave this place, where there are more
great fish, and return to it after a while, when the alarm
produced by our operations has subsided.

Phys. — That fish take the artificial fly at all is rather
surprising to me, for in its most perfect form it is but a
rude imitation of nature ; and from the greedy manner
in which it is seized, fish, I think, cannot possess a re-
fined sense of smell, or any nervous system correspond-
ing to the nasal one in animals that breathe air : no
scent can be given to water by an artificial fly, or, at
least, none like that of the natural fly.

Hal. — The principal use of the nostrils in fishes, I
believe is to assist in the propulsion of water through
the gills for performing the office of respiration, but I
think there are some nerves in these organs which give
fishes a sense of the qualities of the water, or substances
dissolved in, or diffused through it, similar to our sense
of smell, or, perhaps, rather our sense of taste, for there
can be no doubt that fishes are attracted by scented
pastes and scented worms, which are sometimes used
by anglers that employ ground-baits ; and in old angling-
books there are usually receipts for attracting fish in
this manner, and though the absurdity of many of these
prescriptions is manifest, yet I do not think this proves
that they are entirely useless, for, upon such principles,
all the remedies for diseases in the old pharmacopoeias
would be null.^'

* [The latter use assigned by the author to the nostrils of fishes, there
is good reason to believe is the true one, their olfactory nerve commonly
being large and very elaborately and curiously distributed on the mem-
brane of the cavities.]

BAITS. 25

With respect to the fly, as it usually touches the stream
by a very small surface, that of the air-bubbles on
the fringes on its legs, it can scarcely affect the water
so as to give it any power of communicating smell. And
as you have seen a ripple or motion on the water is
necessary to deceive fishes ; and as they look at the fly
from below, they see distinctly only the legs and body,
which, when the colours are like those of the natural
fly, may easily deceive them ; the wings, which are the
worst imitated parts of the artificial fly, seldom appear
to them, except through the different refractive power
of the moving water and the atmosphere, and when im-
mersed, they form masses not unlike the wings of a
drowned fly, or one wetted in rising.

«u. ..u. .u. .^ .^

W VS* -A* ^ -A*

It is now a quarter of an hour since we left the large
pool: let us return to it; I see the fish are again
rising.

PoiET. — lam astonished! It appears to me that the
very same fish are again feeding. There are two fish
rising nearly in the same spot where they rose before :
can they be the same fish ?

Hal. — It is very possible. It is not likely that three
other fish of that size should occupy the same haunts.

PoiET. — But I thought after a fish had been hooked,
he remained sick and sulky for some time, feeling his
wounds uncomfortable.

Hal. — The fish that I hooked is not rising in the
same place, and therefore, probably, was hurt by the
hook ; but one of these fish seems to be the same that
carried off your fly, and it is probable that the hook only
struck him in a part of the mouth where there are no
nerves ; and that he suffered little at the moment, and
does not now feel his annoyance.

VOL. IX. c

26 SALMONIA.

PoiET. — I have seen him take four or five flies: I
shall throw over him. There, he rose, but refused the
fly. He has at least learnt, from the experiment he has
made, to distinguish the natural from the artificial fly.

Hal. — This I think, always happens after a fish has
been hooked with an artificial fly. He becomes cau-
tious, and is seldom caught that year, at least with the
same means in the same pool : but I dare say that fish
might be taken with the natural fly ; or, what is better,
two upon the hook.

PoiET. — Pray try him.

Hal. — I am no artist at this kind of angling, but
Ornither I know has fished in June with the clubs at
Stockbridge, where this method of fishing is usual.
Pray let him try his fortune, though it is hardly fair
play ; and it is rather to endeavour to recover your
tackle, than for the sake of the fish, that I encourage
him to make the essay.

PoiET. — Pray make no apologies for the trial. Such
a fish — certainly a monster for this river — should be
caught b}^ fair m^eans, if possible, but caught by any
means.

Orn. — You lost that fish, and you over-rate his size,
as you will see, if I have good luck. I put my live flies
on the hook with reo-ret and some diso;ust. I will not
employ another person to be my minister of cruelty, as I
remember a lady of fashion once did, who was very fond
of fishing for perch, and who employed her daughter, a
little girl of nine years of age, to pass the hook through
the body of the worm ! Now there is a good wind, and
the fish has just taken a natural fly, I shall drop the
flies, if possible, within a few inches of his nose. He has
risen. He is caught ! I must carry him down stream
to avoid the bed of weeds above. I now have him on

PRICKED TROUT. 27

fair ground, and he fights with vigour. Fortunately,
my silk-worm gut is very strong, for he is not a fish to
be trifled with. He begins to be tired ; prepare the net.
We have him safe, and see, your link hangs to his lower
jaw : the hook had struck the cartilage on the outside of
the bone, and the fly, probably, was scarcely felt by
him.

Phys. — I am surprised ! That fish evidently had dis-
covered that the artificial fly was a dangerous bait, yet
he took the natural fly which was on a hook, and when
the silk-worm gut must have been visible.

Hal. — I do not think he either saw the gut or the
hook. In very bright weather and water, I have known
very shy fish refuse even a hook baited with the natural
fly, scared probably by some appearance of hook or gut.
The vision of fishes when the surface is not ruffled is
sufficiently keen. I have seen them rise at gnats so
small as to be scarcely visible to my eye.

Phys. — You just now said, that a fish pricked by the
hook of an artificial fly w^ould not usually take it again
that season.

Hal. — I cannot be exact on that point : I have known
a fish that I have pricked retain his station in the river,
and refuse the artificial fly, day after day, for weeks
together ; but his memory may have been kept awake
by this practice, and the recollection seems local and
associated with surrounding objects ; and if a pricked
trout is chased into another pool, he will, I believe, soon
again take the artificial fly. Or if the objects around
him are changed, as in Autumn, by the decay of weeds,
or by their being cut, the same thing happens ; and a
flood or a rough wind, I believe assists the fly-fisher, not
merely by obscuring the vision of the fish, but in a river
much fished, changing the appearance of their haunts :

c 2

28 SALMONIA.

large trouts almost always occupy particular stations,
under, or close to, a large stone or tree ; and probably,
most of their recollected sensations are connected with
this dwelling.

Phys. — I think I understand you, that the memory
of the danger and pain does not last long, unless there is
a permanent sensation with which it can remain asso-
ciated,— such as the station of the trout ; and the recol-
lection of the mere form of the artificial fly, without this
association is evanescent.

Orn. — You are diving into metaphysics; yet I think,
in fowling, I have observed that the memory of birds is
local. A woodcock that has been much shot at and
scared in a particular wood, runs to the side where he
has usually escaped, the moment he hears the dogs ;
but if driven into a new wood, he seems to lose his
acquired habits of caution, and becomes stupid.

PoiET. — This great fish, that Ornither has just caught,
must be nearly of the weight I assigned to him.

Hal. — O no ! he is, I think, above 5 lbs., but not 6 lbs. :
but we can form a more correct opinion by measuring
him, which I can easily do, the but of my rod being a
measure. He measures, from nose to fork, a very little
less than twenty-four inches, and, consequently, upon
the scale which is appropriate to w^ell-fed trouts, should
weigh olbs. lOoz. — which, within an ounce, I doubt not,
is his weight.

Phys. — O ! I see you take the mathematical law,
that similar solids are to each other in the triplicate
ratio of one of their dimensions.

Hal. — You are right.

Phy's. — But I think you are below the mark, for this
appears to me an extraordinarily thick fish.

Hal. — He is a well-fed fish, but, in proportion, not

THROWING THE FLY. 29

SO thick as my model, which was a fish of 17 inches by
9 inches, and weighed 2 lbs. ; — this is my standard solid.
We will try him. Ho ! Mrs. B. ! — bring your scales,
and weigh this fish. There, you see, he weighs 5 lbs.
lO^oz.

Phys. — Well, I am pleased to see this fish, and
amused with your sport ; but though I have been imi-
tating you in throwing the fly, as well as I can, yet not
a trout has taken notice of my fly, and they seem scared
by my appearance.

Hal. — Let me see you perform. There are two good
trout, taking flies opposite that bank which you can
reacL You threw too much line into the water, and
scared them both ; but I will take you to the rapid of
the TumbHng Bay, where the river falls; there the
quickness of the stream will prevent your line from
falling deep, and the foam wdll conceal your person
from the view of the fish. And let me advise you to
fish only in the rapids till you have gained some expe-
rience in throwing the fly. There are several fish rising
in that stream.

Phys. — I have raised one, but he refused my fly.
Hal. — Now you have a fish.
Phys. — I am delighted ; — but he is a small one.
Hal. — Unluckily, it is a dace.

Phys. — I have now a larger fish, which has pulled my
line out.

Hal. — Give him time. That is a good trout. Now
wind up ; he is tired, and your own. I will land him.
He is a fish to keep, being above 2 lbs.
Phys. — I am well pleased.

Hal. — There are many larger trouts here : go on
fishing, and you will hook some of them. And when
you are tired of this rapid you will find another a quar-

30 SALMONIA.

ter of a mile below. And continue to fish with a short
line, and drop your fly, or let it be carried by the wind
on the water as lightly as possible. Well, Poietes, what
success ?

PoiET. — I have been fishing in the stream above ; but
the flies are so abundant, that the large fish will not
take my artificial fly, and I have caught only three fish,
all of which the fisherman has thrown into the water,
though I am sure one of them was more than 2 lbs.

Hal. — You may trust his knowledge : with a new
angler, our keeper would be apt to favour the fisher-
man rather than the fish. But we will have all fish
you wish to be killed, and above 2 lbs., put into the
well of the boat, where they can be examined, and, if
you desire, weighed and measured, and such kept as are
worth keeping. No good angler should kill a fish if
possible, till he is needed to be crimped ; for the sooner
he is dressed after this operation the better; — and I
assure you, a well-fed trout of the Colne, crimped and
cooled ten minutes before he is wanted for the kettle or
the gridiron, is a fish little inferior to the best salmon of
the best rivers. It is now nearly two o'clock, and there
is a cloud over the sun ; the fly is becoming less abun-
dant ; you are now likely, Poietes, to have better sport.
Try in that deep pool, below the Tumbling Bay ; I see
two or three good fish rising there, and there is a lively
breeze. The largest fish refuses your fly again and
again ; try the others. There, you have hooked him ;
now carry him down stream, and keep his head high,
out of the weeds. He plunges and fights with great
force ; — he is the best-fed fish I have yet seen at the
end of the line, and will weigh more, in proportion to
his length. I will land him for you. There he is, —
and measures 19 inches: and I dare say his weight is

TROUT DESCRIBED. 31

not much short of 3 lbs. We will preserve him in the
well.

PoiET. — He has hardly any spots, and is silvery all
over ; and the whole of the lower part of his body is
beautifully clean.

Hal. — He is likewise broad-backed; and you may
observe his few spots are black, and these are very small.
I have always remarked, in this river, that the nearer
the fish approach to perfection, the colour of the body
becomes more uniform, — pale olive above, and bright
silver below ; and these qualities are always connected
with a small head, — or rather, an oval body, and deep-
red flesh.

PoiET. — May not the red spots be marks of disease —
a hectic kind of beauty ? For I observed in a very thin
and poor fish, and great-headed, that I caught an
hour ago, which had leeches sticking to it, a number of
red spots, and a long black back, and black or bluish
marks even on the belly.

Hal. — I do not think red spots a symptom of disease ;
for I have seen fish in other rivers, and even small fish
in this river, in perfectly good season, with red spots ;
but the colours of fish are very capricious, and depend
upon causes which cannot be easily defined. The
colouring matter is not in the scales, but in the surface
of the skin immediately beneath them, and is probably
a secretion easily affected by the health of the animal.
I have known fish, from some lakes in Ireland, mottled
in a most singular way, — their colour being like that of
the tortoise ; the nature of the water, exposure to the
light, and probably the kind of food, produce these
effects. I think it possible, when trout feed much on
hard substances, such as larvae and their cases, and the
ova of other fish, they have more red spots, and redder

32 SALMONIA.

fins. This is the case with the gillaroo and the char,
who feed on analogous substances : and the trout, that
have similar habits, might be expected to resemble
them. When trout feed most on small fish, as minnows,
and on flies, they have more tendency to become spot-
ted with small black spots, and are generally more
silvery. The Colne trout are, in their advanced state,
of this kind ; and so are the trout called in Ireland
buddocks and dolochans, found in Loch Neah- Par-
ticular character becomes hereditary, and the effects of
a peculiar food influence the appearance of the next
generation. I hope, Ornither, you have had good sport.

Orn. — Excellent ! Since you left me, below the
weir, I have hooked at least fifteen or twenty good fish,
and landed and saved eight above 2 lbs ; but I have
taken no fish like the great one which I caught by
poaching with the natural flies. The trout rose won-
derfully well within the last quarter of an hour, but
they are now all still ; and the river, which was in such
active motion, is now perfectly quiet, and seems asleep
and almost dead.

Hal. — It is past four o'clock, and some dark, heavy
clouds are come on, — the fly is off. It is almost the
hour for the signal of the dressing bell ; and there is
nothing more to be done now till evening. But see I
our host is come to examine our fish in the well, and to
inquire about our sport ; and, I dare say, will order
some of our fish to be dressed for the table.

Host. — I hope, gentlemen, you have been amused?

Hal. — Most highly, sir. As a proof of it, there are in
the fish-well eighteen good trout, — and one not much
short of 6 lbs. ; three above 4 lbs., and four above 3 lbs. in
weight. I hope you will order that great fish for your
dinner.

PERCH. 33

Host. — We will see. He is a fine fish, and fit for a
present, even for a prince — and you shall take him to a
prince. Here is a fish, and there another, of the
two next sizes, which I am sure will cut red. Prepare
them, fisherman. And Haleius, you shall catch two
or three perch, for another dish ; I know there are some
good ones below the piles of the weir ; I saw them
hunting the small fish there yesterday morning. Some
minnows, ho ! — and the perch rods !

Hal. — I am tired, sir, and would willingly avoid
minnow fishing after such a morning's sport.

Host. — Come, then, I will be a fisher for the table.
I have one — and another, that will weigh nearly a pound
a-piece. Now, there is a cunning perch that has stolen
my minnow ; I know he is a large one. He has robbed
me again and again ; and if I fish on in this way, with
the hook through the upper lip, will I dare say, carry
away all the minnows in the kettle. I shall put on a
strong small hook, on a stout, though fine, gut, with
slender wdre round the top, and pass the hook through
the back fin of the minnow, and try my sagacity against
his. Lo ! I have him ! — and a very strong fish he is,
and gone to the bottom ; but even though the greatest
perch in the river, he cannot bite the gut, — he will soon
be tired and taken. He now comes up, and is landed.
He must be above 3 lbs. — a magnificent perch ! Kill
him, and crimp him, fisherman ; take our two trout, and
the three perch to the kitchen, and let them be dressed
as usual. You shall have a good dish of fish, worthy of
such determined anglers. But I see one of your party
coming up by the side of the river, who seems tired and
out of spirits.

Hal. — It is Physicus, who has this day commenced
his career as a fly-fisher ; and who, I dare say, has been

c 5

34 SALMONIA.

as successful as the uninitiated generally are. I hope
you have followed my advice, and been fortunate ?

Fhys. — I caught two trout in the rapid where you
left me ; but they were small, and the fisherman threw
them in. Below the weir, in the quick stream, I caught
two dace, and what astonished me very much, a perch,
which you see here, and which I thought never took
the fly.

Hal. — O yes, sometimes ; and particularly when it is
below the surface : and w^hat more ?

Phys. — By creeping on my knees, and dropping my
fly over the bank, I hooked a very large fish which I saw
rising, and which w^as like a salmon ; but he was too
strong for my tackle, ran out all my line, and at last
broke off by entangling my link in a post in the river.
I have been very unlucky ! I am sure that fish was
larger than the great one Ornither took with the natural

Hal. — Come, you have been initiated, and I see
begin to take an interest in the sport, and I do not
despair of your becoming a distinguished angler.

Phys. — With time and some patience : but I am
sorry I tortured that enormous fish without taking him.

Hal. — I dare say he was a large fish ; but I have
known very correct and even cool reasoners in error on
a point of this kind. You are acquainted with Chemi-
cus ; he is not an ardent fisherman, and certainly not
addicted to romance : I will tell you an anecdote re-
specting him. He accompanied me to this very spot
last year, on a visit to our host, and preferred angling for
pike to fly fishing. After the amusement of a morning,
he brought back with him to the house one pike, and
with some degree of disappointment complained that he
had hooked another of enormous size, which carried off

PERCH. 35

his tackle by main force, and which he was sure must
have been above lOlbs. At dinner, on the table, there
were two pikes ; one the fish that Chemicus had caught,
and another a little larger, somewhat more than 3 lbs.
We put some questions as to who had caught this
second pike, which we found had been taken by our
host, who smiling, and with some kind of mystery,
asked Chemicus if he thought it weighed 10 lbs. Che-
micus refused to acknowledge an identity between such
a fish and the monster he had hooked ; when my friend
took out of his pocket a paper containing some hooks
and tackle carefully wrapped up, and asked Chemicus
if he had ever seen such an apparatus. Chemicus
owned they were the hooks and tackle the great fish
had carried away. " And I found them," said our
friend, " in the mouth of that little fish which you see
on the table, and which I caught half an hour ago."

Host. — I answer for the correctness of this anecdote,
but I do not sanction its application to the case of our
novitiate in angling. I have seen a fish under that
bank where he was so unfortunate, which I am sure was
above four pounds, and which I dare say was the sub-
ject of his unsuccessful experiment.

PoiET. — From what our host has just said, I conclude,
Halieus, that fish do not usually change their stations.

Hal. — Large trouts unquestionably do not ; — they
always hide themselves under the same bank, stone,
stock, or weed, as I said this morning before, and come
out from their permanent habitations to feed ; and when
they have fled to their haunt, they may be taken there
by the hand ; and on this circumstance the practice of
tickling trout is founded. A favourite place for a large
trout in rivers is an eddy behind a rock or stone, where
flies and small fishes are carried by the force of the

36 SALMONIA.

current: and such haunts are rarely unoccupied ; for if
a fish is taken out of one of them, his place is soon sup-
plied by another, who quits for it a less convenient
situation.

Phys. — So much knowledge and practice is required
to become a proficient, that I am afraid it is too late in
life for me to begin to learn a new art.

Hal. — Do not despair. There was — alas ! that I
must say there was — an illustrious philosopher, who was
nearly fifty before he made angling a pursuit, yet he
became a distinguished fly-fisher, and the amusement
occupied many of his leisure hours during the last
twelve years of his life. He, indeed, applied his pre-
eminent acuteness, his science and his philosophy to aid
the resources, and exalt the pleasures of this amusement.
I remember to have seen Dr. Wollaston, a few days
after he had become a fly-fisher, carrying at his button-
hole a piece of caoutchouc, or Indian rubber, when, by
passing his silk-worm link through a fissure in the middle,
he rendered it straight and fit for immediate use. Many
other anglers will remember other ingenious devices of
my admirable and ever-to-be lamented friend.

( They go to dinner,)

# * * « «

{Tliey return from the house.)

EVENING.

Hal. — You have, I am sure, gentlemen, dined well ;
no one ever dined otherwise in this house. It is a
beautiful calm evening, and many fish might be caught
where we fished in the morning ; but I will take you to
another part of the river; you shall each catch a fish,
and then we will give over; for the evening's sport
should be kept till a late season, — July or August, — when

EVENING FISHING. 37

there is little fly on in the day-time : and it would be
spoiling the diversion of our host, to catch or prick all
the fish in the upper water ; and with a gentleman so
truly liberal, and so profuse of his means of giving plea-
sure to others, no improper liberties should be taken.
I shall not fish myself, but shall have my pleasure in
witnessing your sport. It must be in a boat, and you
must steal slowly up the calm water, and glide like aerial
beings on the surface, making no motion in the water,
and showing no shadow. Your fly must be an orange
or brown palmer with a yellow body ; for the gray
drake is not yet on the water. The fish here are large,
and the river weedy, so you must take care of your
fish and your tackle.

PoiET. — We have at least passed over half-a-mile of
water, and have seen no fish rise ; yet there is a yellowish
or reddish fly in the air, which moves like a drake ; and
there are clouds of pale-brown flies encircling the alders.
Now, I think I see a large trout rise below that alder.

Hal. — That is not a trout, for he rises in a different
place now, and is probably a large roach or chub ; do
not waste your time upon him. You may always know
a large trout, when feeding in the evening. He rises
continuously, or at small intervals, — in a still water,
almost always in the same place — and makes little noise
— barely elevating his mouth to suck in the fly, and
sometimes showing his back-fin and tail. A large circle
spreads around him ; but there are seldom any bubbles
when he breaks the water, which usually indicate the
coarser fish : we will wait a few minutes ; I know there
must be trout here ; and the sun is setting, and the yel-
low fly, or dun cut, coming on the water. See, beneath
that alder, is a trout rising ; and now there is another
thirty yards higher up. Take care, get your line out in

38 SALMONIA.

another part of the water, and in order for reaching the
fish, and do not throw till you are sure you can reach
the spot, and throw at least half-a-yard above the fish.

Orn. — He rose, I suppose, at a natural fly, the
moment my fly touched the water.

Hal. — Try again. You have hooked him ; and you
have done well not to strike when he rose. Now hold
him tight, wind up your line, and carry him down the
stream. Push the boat down stream, fisherman. Keep
your fish's head up. He begins to tire, — and there is
landed. A fine well-fed fish, not much less than 4 lbs.
Throw him into the well. Now, Poietes, try that fish
rising above, — and there are two more.

PoiET. — I have him !

Hal. — Take care. He has turned you, and you have
suffered him to run out your line, and he is gone into
the weeds under the willow : let him fall down stream.

PoiET. — I cannot get him out.

Hal. — Then wind up. I fear he is lost ; yet we will
try to recover him by taking the boat up. The line is
loose : he has left the link entangled in the weeds, and
carried your fly with him. He must have been a large
fish, or he could not have disentangled himself from so
strong a gut. Try again, there are fish now rising above
and below ; where the water is in motion, opposite that
willow, there are two fish rising.

PoiET. — I have one of them.

Hal. — Now you are doing well. Down vrith the
boat, and drag your fish downwards. Continue to do
so, as there are weeds all round you. You can master
him now ; keep him high, and he is your own. Put the
net under him, and bring him into the boat ; he is a
well-fed fish, but not of the proper size for a victim :
about 2 lbs. Now, Physicus, try your fortune with the

EVENING FISHING. 39

fish above, that rises so merrily still. You have him !
Now use him as Poietes did the last. Very well ; I see
he is a large fish, — take your time. He is landed ; a fish
nearly of 3lbs., and in excellent season.

Phys. — Anche lo son Pescatore — I too am a fisher^
man — a triumph.

Hal. — Now we have finished our fishing, and must
return to the light supper of our host. It would be easy
now, and between this hour and ten, to take half-a-dozen
large fish in this part of the water ; but for the reason I
have already stated, it would be improper.

PoiET. — Pray would not this be a good part of the
water for day-fishing ?

Hal. — Undoubtedly, a skilful angler might take fish
here in the day ; but the bank is shaded by trees, there
is seldom any sensible wind on the water, and the ap-
paratus and the boat in motion are easily perceived in
the daylight ; and the water is so deep, that a great
quantity of fly is necessary to call up the fish ; and in
general there is a larger quantity of fly in hot summer
evenings, than even in the brightest sunshine.

Phys. — The fly appears to me like a moth that is
now on the water.

Hal. — It is.

PoiET. — What flies come on late in the season here ?

Hal. — Flies of the same species ; some darker, and
some with a deeper shade of red ; and there are likewise
the true moths, the brown and white, which, in June
and July, are seized with avidity by the fish ; and being
large flies, take large fish.

Orn. — Surely the May-fly season is not the only
season for day -fishing in this river ?

Hal. — ^ Certainly not. There are as many fish to be
taken, perhaps, in the Spring fishing ; but, in this deep

40 SALMONIA.

river, thcj are seldom in good season till the May-fly
has been on ; and a fortnight hence they will be still
better than even now. In September, there may be
good fish taken here ; but the autumnal flies are less
plentiful in this river, than the spring flies.

Phys. — Pray tell me what are the species of fly which
take in these two seasons ?

Hal. — You know that trout spawn or deposit their
ova and milt in the end of the autumn or beginning of
winter, from the middle of November till the beginning
of January, their maturity depending upon the tempe-
rature of the season, their quantity of food, &c. For
some time (a month or six weeks) before they are pre-
pared for breeding, they become less fat, particularly
the females ; the large quantity of eggs, and their size,
probably affecting the health of the animal, and com-
pressing generally the vital organs in the abdomen.
They are at least six weeks or two months after they
have spawned, before they recover their flesh : and the
time when these fish are at the worst, is likewise the
worst time for fly-fishing ; both on account of the cold
weather, and because there are fewer flies on the water,
than at any other season. Even in December and Ja-
nuary, there are a few small gnats or water-flies on the
water in the middle of the day, in bright da37s, or when
there is sunshine. These are generally black ; and they
escape the influence of the frost, by the effects of light
on their black bodies, and probably by the extreme ra-
pidity of the motions of their fluids, and generally of
their organs. They are found only at the surface of the
water, where the temperature must be above the freez-
ing point. In February a few double-winged water-
flies which swim down the stream, are usually found in
the middle of the day, — such as the willow-fly ; and the

FLIES. 41

cow-dung-fly is sometimes carried on the water by
winds. In March, there are several flies found on most
rivers. The grannam or green-tail-fly, with a wing like
a moth, comes on generally morning and evening, from
five till eight o'clock, a. m., in mild weather, in the end
of March, and through April. Then there are the blue
and the brown, both Ephemerae, which come on, the
first in dark days, the second in bright days ; these flies,
when well imitated, are very destructive to fish. The
first is a small fly, with a palish-yellow body, and
slender beautiful wings, which rest on the back as it
floats down the water. The second, called the cob in
Wales, is three or four times as large, and has brown
wings, which likewise protrude from the back ; and its
wings are shaded like those of a partridge, brown and
yellow-brown. These three kinds of flies lay their eggs
in the water, which produce larvae that remain in the
state of worms, feeding and breathing in the water till
they are prepared for their metamorphosis, and quit the
bottoms of the rivers, and the mud and stones, for the
surface, and the light and air. The brown fly usually
disappears before the end of April, likewise the gran-
nam ; but of the blue dun, there is a succession of dif-
ferent tints, or species, or varieties, which appear in the
middle of the day all the summer and autumn long.
These are the principal flies on the Wandle — the best
and clearest stream near London. In early spring, these
flies have dark-olive bodies ; in the end of April, and
the beginning of May, they are found yellow ; and in
the summer they become cinnamon-coloured; and
again, as the winter approaches, gain a darker hue. I
do not, however, mean to say, that they are the same
flies, but more probably successive generations of Ephe-
merae of the same species. The excess of heat seems

42 SALMONIA.

equally unfavourable, as the excess of cold, to the ex-
istence of the smaller species of water-insects, which,
during the intensity of sunshine, seldom appear in
summer, but rise morning and evening only. The blue
dun has, in June and July, a yellow body ; and there is
a water-fly which, in the evening, is generally found
before the moths appear, called the red- spinner.
Towards the end of August, the Ephemerae appear
again in the middle of the day : a very pale small Ephe-
mera, which is of the same colour as that which is seen
in some rivers in the beginning of July. lii September
and October, this kind of fly is found with an olive
body ; and it becomes darker in October, and paler in
November. There are two other flies which appear in
the end of September, and continue during October, if
the weather be mild : a large yellow fly, with a fleshy
body and wings like a moth ; and a small fly with four
wings, with a dark or claret-coloured body, that when it
falls on the water has its wings, like the great yellow
fly, flat on its back. This, or a claret-bodied fly, very
similar in character, may be likewise found in March or
April, on some waters. In this river, I have often
caught many large trout in April and the beginning of
May, with the blue dun, having the yellow body ; and,
in the upper part of the stream below St. Albans, and
between that and Watford, I have sometimes, even as
early as April, caught fish in good condition : but the
true season for the Colne, is the season of the May-fly.
The same may be said of most of the large English
rivers containing large trouts, and abounding in May-
fly : — such as the Test and the Kennet ; the one run-
ning by Stockbridge, the other by Hungerford. But in
the Wandle at Carshalton and Beddington, the May-
fly is not found ; and the little blues are the constant,

FLIES— FISHING SEASON. 43

and, when well imitated, killing flies, on this water ; to
which may be joined a dark alder-fly, and a red evening
fly. In the Avon, at Ringwood and Fordingbridge, the
May-fly is likewise a killing fly ; but as this is a grayling
river, the other flies, particularly the grannam and blue
and brown, are good in spring, and the alder-fly or pale
blue, later ; and the blue dun in September and Oc-
tober, and even November. In the streams in the
mountainous parts of Britain, the spring and autumnal
flies are by far the most killing. The Usk was formerly
a very productive trout stream ; and the fish being w ell
fed by the worms washed down by the winter floods,
were often in good season, cutting red in March, and
the beginning of April : and at this season the blues
and browns, particularly when the water was a little
stained after a small flood, aflbrded the angler good
sport. In Herefordshire and Derbyshire, where trout
and grayling are often found together, the same periods
are generally best for angling ; but in the Dove, Lath-
kill, and Wye, with the natural May-fly, many fish may
be taken ; and in old times, in peculiarly windy days,
or high and troubled water, even the artificial May-fly,
according to Cotton, was very killing.

PoiET. — I have heard various accounts of the excel-
lent fishing in some of the great lakes in Ireland. Can
you tell us anything on the subject, and if the same flies
may be used in that island ?

Hal. — I have been several times in Ireland, but
never at this season, which is considered- as best for
lake-fishing. I have heard that, in some of the lakes in
Westmeath, very large trout, and great quantities, may
be taken in the beginning of June, with the very flies
we have been using this day. Wind is necessary ; and
a good angler sometimes takes in a day, or rather for-

44 SALMONIA.

merlj took, from ten to twelve fish, which weighed
from 3 to 10 lbs., and which occasionally were even
larger. In the summer after June, and in the autumn,
the only seasons when I have fished in Ireland, I have
seldom taken any large trout ; but in the river Boyle,
late in October, after a flood, I once had some sport
with these fish, that were running up the river from
Lock Key to spawn. I caught one day two above 3 lbs.,
that took a large reddish-brown fly, of the same kind as
a salmon-fly ; and I saw some taken that weighed 5 lbs.,
and heard of one that equalled 9 lbs. These fish were
in good season, even at this late period, and had no
spots, but were coloured red and brown ; mottled like
tortoise-shell, only with smaller bars. I have in July,
likewise, fished in Loch Con, near Ballina, and Loch
Melvin, near Ballyshannon. In Loch Con, the party
caught many small good trout, that cut red : and in the
other, I caught a very few trout only ; but as many of
them were gillaroo or gizzard trout, as common trout.

PoiET. — This must have been an interesting kind of
fishing. In what does the gillaroo differ from the trout ?

Hal. — In appearance very little, except that they
have more red spots, and a yellow, or golden-coloured
belly, and fins, and are generally a broader and thicker
fish ; but internally they have a different organization,
possessing a large thick muscular stomach, which has
been improperly compared to a fowl's, and which gene-
rally contains a quantity of small shell-fish, of three or
four kinds : and though in those I caught, the stomachs
were full of these shell- fish, yet they rose greedily at the
fly.

PoiET. — Are they not common trout, which have
gained the habit of feeding on shell-fish ?

Hal. — If so, they have been altered in a succession

GILLAROO. 45

of generations. The common trouts of this lake have
stomachs hke other trouts, which never, as far as my
experience has gone, contain shell-fish ; but of the gil-
laroo trout, I have caught with a fly some not longer
than my finger, which have had as perfect a hard
stomach as the larger ones, with the coats as thick in
proportion, and the same shells within ; so that this
animal is at least now a distinct species, and is a sort of
link between the trout and char, which has a stomach
of the same kind with the gillaroo, but not quite so
thick, and which feeds at the bottom in the same way.
I have often looked in the lakes abroad for gillaroo
trout, and never found one. In a small lake at the foot
of the Crest of the Brenner, above 4,000 feet above the
level of the sea, I once caught some trout, which, from
their thickness and red spots, I suspected were gillaroo,
but on opening the stomach, I found I was mistaken ;
it had no particular thickness, and w^as filled with grass-
hoppers : but there were char, which fed on shell-fish^ in
the same lake.

PoiET. — Are water-flies found on all rivers ?

Hal. — This is a question which I find it impossible
to answer ; yet from my own experience I should sup-
pose, that in all the habitable parts of the globe certain
water-flies exist wherever there is running water. Even
in the most ardent temperature, gnats and musquitoes
are found, which lay their congeries of eggs on the
water, which, w^hen hatched, become first worms, after-
wards small shrimp-like aurelias, and lastly flies. There
are a great number of the largest species of these flies
on stagnant waters and lakes, which form a part of the
food of various fishes, principally of the carp kind : but
the true fisherman's flies, — those which are imitated in
our art, principally belong to the northern, or at least

46 SALMONIA.

temperate part of Europe, and I believe are nowhere
more abundant than in England. It appears to me, that
since I have been a fisherman, which is now the best
part of half a century, I have observed in some rivers
where I have been accustomed to fish habitually, a dimi-
nution of the numbers of flies. There were always some
seasons in which the temperature was favourable to a
quantity of fly ; for instance, fine warm days in spring
for the grannam, or brown fly ; and like days in May
and June for the alder fly, May-fly, and stone-fly ; but
I should say that within these last twenty years I have
observed a general diminution of the spring and autum-
nal flies, except in those rivers which are fed from
sources that run from chalk, and which are perennial —
such as the Wandle, and the Hampshire and Bucking-
hamshire rivers ; in these streams the temperature is
more uniform, and the quantity of water does not vary
much. I attribute the change of the quantity of flies in
the rivers to the cultivation of the counti-y. Most of
the bogs or marshes which fed many considerable streams
are drained ; and the consequence is, that they are more
likely to be affected by severe droughts and great floods
— the first killing, and the second washing away the
larvae and aurelias. May-flies thirty years ago were
abundant in the upper part of the Teme river in Here-
fordshire, where it receives the Clun : they are now
rarely seen. Most of the rivers of that part of England,
as well as of the west, with the exception of those that
rise in the still uncultivated parts of Dartmoor and Ex-
moor, are rapid and unfordable torrents after rain, and
in dry summers little more than scanty rills ; and Ex-
moor and Dartmoor, almost the only considerable re-
mains of those moist, spongy, or peaty soils, which once
covered the greatest part of the high lands of England,

FLIES. 47

are becoming cultivated, and their sources will gradually
gain the same character as those of our midland and
highly-improved counties. I cannot give you an idea of
the effects of peat mosses and grassy marshes on the water
thrown down from the atmosphere, better, than by com-
paring their effects to those of roofs of houses of thatched
straw, as contrasted with roofs of slate, on a shower of
rain. The slate begins to drop immediately, and sends
down what it receives in a rapid torrent, and is dry soon
after the shower is over. From the sponge-like roof of
thatch, on the contrary, it is long before the water
drops; but it continues dropping and wet for hours
after the shower is over and the slate dry.

PoiET. — You spoke just now of the gillaroo trout, as
belonging only to Ireland. I can, however, hardly
bring myself to believe, that such a fish is not to be
found elsewhere. For lakes with shell-fish and char are
common in various parts of Europe, and as the gillaroo
trout is congenerous, it ought to exist both in Scotland
and the Alpine countries.

Hal. — It is not possible from analogies of this kind
to draw certain inferences. Subterraneous cavities and
subterranean waters are common in various countries, yet
the Proteus Anguinus is only found in two places in Car-
niola — at Adelsburg and Sittich. As I mentioned before,
I have never yet met with a gillaroo trout except in Ire-
land. It is true, it is only lately that I have had my
attention directed to the subject, and other fishermen or
naturalists may be more fortunate.

PoiET. — Have you ever observed any other varieties
of the trout kind, which may be considered as, like the
gillaroo, forming a distinct species ?

Hal. — I think the par, samlet, or brandling, common
to most of our rivers which communicate with the sea.

48 SALMONIA.

has a claim to be considered a distinct species ; yet the
history of this fish is so obscure, and so Httlc under-
stood, that, perhaps, I ought not to venture to give
an account of it. But in doing so, you will consider
me as rather asking for new information, than as
attempting a satisfactory view of this little animal.

Orn. — I have seen this fish in the rivers of Wales and
Herefordshire, and have heard it asserted on w^hat
appeared to me good authority, that it was a mule, — the
offspring of a trout and a salmon.

Hal. — This opinion, I know, has been supported by
the fact, that it is found only in streams, which are
occasionally visited by salmon ; yet I know no direct
evidence in favour of the opinion, and I should think it
much more probable, if it be a mixed race, that it
is produced by the sea trout and common trout. In a
small river, which runs into the Moy, near Ballina in
Ireland, I once caught in October a great number of
small sea trout, which were generally about half-a- pound
in weight, and were all males ; and unless it be supposed,
that the females were in the river likewise, and would
not take the fly, these fish, in which the milt was fully de-
veloped, could only have impregnated the ova of the com-
mon river trout. The sea trout and river trout are, indeed^
so like each other in character, that such a mixture seems
exceedingly probable ; but I know no reason why such
mules should always continue small, except that it may
be a mark of imperfection. The only difference be-
tween the par and common small trout is in the colours,
and its possessing one or two spines more in the pecto-
ral fin. The par has large blue or olive-bluish marks
on the sides, as if they had been made by the impression
of the fingers of a hand ; and hence the fish is called in
some p\sicesjinfferlinp. The river and sea trout seem

PAR. 49

capable of changing permanently their places of resi-
dence ; and sea trout appear often to become river trout.
In this case they lose their silvery colour, and gain more
spots; and in their offspring these changes are more
distinct. Fish, likewise, which are ill-fed remain small ;
and pars are exceedingly numerous in those rivers
where they are found, which are never separated from
the sea by impassable falls ; from which I think it pos-
sible that they are produced by a cross between sea and
river trout.* The varieties of the common trout are

* The author, in supposing that the par maybe produced from across
between the river trout and the sea trout, does not mean to attach any
importance to this idea. Tlicfish differs so little from the common trout
that it may be questioned, whether it is not more entitled to the
character of a variety than of a species. In many rivers on the conti-
nent, the author has seen small trout with olive or brown marks,
like those of the British par; and, a friend informs him, he has^
caught fishes of the same kind in the streams connected with the lake of
Geneva. In rivers, flowing into the Danube, these small fish are very
common ; but, as well as he remembers, their marks are pale or yellow-
ish-brown, or olive, and not dark or blue like those of our par. Tlie
salmon does not belong to any of these localities, but the hucho haunts
the tributary streams of the Danube. Tiie smelts, or young of the salmo
hucho, or sea trout and lake trout, are all distinguished by the uniform
dark colour of the back, and the silvery whiteness of the belly. He does
not remember to have seen any of the streaked, or par varieties of trout
in rivers, in which there was only one species, or variety of large salmo.
The mottled colour of the skin is, he thinks, the strongest argument in
favour of this little fish, being from a cross of two varieties, or races,
which may be the case, and yet the fish be capable of breeding, and
gaining this character of a peculiar variety ; and he supposes different
kinds of pars may be produced by crosses of the sea trout, the hucho,
the lake trout, with the river trouts, or perhaps of the salmon, and this
would account for their great numbers, and the various tints of the
marks on their sides. If the hucho, as he believes, generally spawns in
the late winter it may sometimes meet with trout spawning at the same
time. He has seen salmon and trout in the Tweed in a similar state of
maturity at the same time ; and, in 1816, he remembers that he took a
large female salmon that had the period of parturition protracted as
late as March.

VOL. IX. D

50 SALMONIA.

almost infinite ; from the great lake trout which weighs
above 60 or 70 lbs., to the trouts of the little mountain
brook, or small mountain lake, or tarn, which is scarcely-
larger than the finger. The smallest trout spawn nearly
at the same time with the larger ones, and their ova are
of the same size ; but in the large trout there are tens of
thousands, and in the small one rarely as many as forty,
— often from ten to forty. So that in the physical con-
stitution of these animals, their production is diminished
as their food is small in quantity ; and it is remarkable,
that the ova of the large and beautiful species which
exist in certain lakes, and which seem always to asso-
ciate together, appear to produce offspring, which, in
colour, form, and power of growth, and reproduction,
resemble the parent fishes; and they generally choose
the same river for their spawning. Thus, in the lake of
Guarda, the Benacus of the ancients, the magnificent
trout, or Salmo fario, which in colour and appearance is
like a fresh run salmon, spawns in the river at Riva, be-
ginning to run up for that purpose in June, and con-
tinuing; to do so all the summer ; and this river is fed
by streams from snow and glaciers in the Tyrol, and is
generally foul : whilst the small spotted common trouts,
which are likewise found in this lake, go into the
small brooks, which have their sources not far off,
and in which, it is probable, they Vvcre originally
bred. I have seen taken in the same net small
fish of both these varieties, which were as marked as
possible in their characters : — one silvery like a young
salmon, blue on the back, and with small black spots
only ; the other with yellow belly and red spots and an
olive-coloured back. I have made similar observations
in other lakes, particularly in that of the Traun near
Gmiinden, and likewise at Loch Neah in Ireland. In-

VARIETIES OF TROUT. 51

deed, considering the sea trout as the type of the species
trout, I think all the other true trouts may not im-
properly be considered as varieties, which the differences
of food and of habits have occasioned, in a long course
of ages, — differences of shape and colours, transmitted to
offspring in the same manner as in the variety of dogs,
which may all be referred to one primitive type.*

Phys. — I am somewhat amused at your idea of the
change produced in the species of trout, by the forma-
tion of particular characters, by particular accidents,
and their hereditary transmission. It reminds me of the
ingenious, but somewhat unsound views of Darwin, on
the same subject.

Hal. — I will not allow you to assimilate my views to
those of an author, who, however ingenious, is far too
speculative ; whose poetry has always appeared to me
weak philosophy, and his philosophy indifferent poetry :
and to whom I have been often accustomed to apply
Blumenbach's saying, that there were many things new,
and many things true, in his doctrines ; but that which
was new w as not true, and what was true, was not new,

PoiET. — I think Halieus is quite in the right to be a
little angry at your observation, Physicus, in making
him a disciple of a writer, who, as well as I can recol-

* I have known the number of spines in the pectoral fins different,
in different varieties of trout : I have seen them 12, 13, and 14 : but
the anal fin always, I believe, contains 11 spines, the dorsal 12 or 13, the
ventral 9, and the caudal 21. The smallest brook trout, when well and
copiously fed, will increase in stews to four or five pounds in weight, but
never attains the size or characters of lake trout.

Mr. Tonkin, of Polgaron, put some small river trout, 2i inches in
length, into a newly-made pond. He took some of these out the second
year, and they were above 12 inches in length ; the third year, he took
one out that was 16 inches ; and the fourth year, one of 25 inches : this
was in 1734. {Carews Survey of Cornwall, p. 87. Lord de Duustan-
ville's edition.)

D 2

52 SALMONIA.

lect, has deduced the genesis of the human being, by a
succession of changes dependent upon irritabiUties, sen-
sibilities, and appetencies, from the Jish ; blending the
wild fancies of Buffon, with the profound ideas of Hart-
ley, and thus endeavouring to give currency to an
absurd romance, by mixing with it some philosophical
truths. I hope your parallel will induce him to do us
the favour to state his own notions more at large.

Hal. — Physicus has mistaken me ; and I will ex-
plain. What I mentioned of the varieties of dogs, as
sprung from one type, he will, I am sure, allow me to
apply, with some modifications, to all our cultivated
breeds of animals, whether horses, oxen, sheep, hogs,
geese, ducks, turkeys, or pigeons ; and he will allow that
certain characters gained by accidents, either from pe-
culiar food, air, water, or domestic treatment, are trans-
mitted to, and often strengthened in the next genera-
tion ; the qualities being, as it were, doubled, when be-
longing to both parents, and retained in spite of coun-
teracting causes. It will be sufficient for me to mention
only a few cases. The blood-horse of Arabia is become
the favourite of the north of Europe, and the colts pos-
sess all the superior qualities of their parents, even in
the polar circle. The offspring of the Merino sheep re-
tain the fineness of their wool in England and Saxony.
Poultry, bantams, tumbling and carrier pigeons, geese,
ducks, turkeys, &;c. all afford instances of the same kind ;
and in the goose and duck, not only is the colour of the
feathers changed, but the form of the muscles of the legs
and wings ; those of the wings, being little employed,
become weak and slender; those of the legs, on the
contrary, being much used, are strong and fleshy ; and
it is well to know this — as, in the young birds, the
muscles of the legs and thighs are the best parts for the

VARIETIES OF TROUT. 53

epicure, a large quantity of flesh being developed there,
but not yet hardened or rendered tough by exercise*
These facts are of the same kind, and depend on the
same principles, as the peculiarity of the breeds or races
in trouts. Fish, in a clear cool river, that feed much on
larvae, and that swallow their hard cases, become yel-
lower, and the red spots increase so as to outnumber the
black ones ; and these qualities become fixed in the
young fishes, and establish a particular variety. If trout
from a lake, or another river of a different variety, were
introduced into this river, they would not at once
change their characters; but the change would take
place gradually. Thus I have known trout from a lake
in Scotland, remarkable for their deep red flesh, intro-
duced into another lake, where the trout had only white
flesh, and they retained the peculiar redness of their
flesh for many years. At first they all associated toge-
ther in spawning in the brook which fed the lake ; but
those new^ly introduced, were easily known from their
darker backs and brighter sides. By degrees, however,
from the influence of food, and other causes, they be-
came changed ; the young trout of the introduced va-
riety, had flesh less red than their parents ; and in about
twenty years the variety was entirely lost, and all the
fish were in their original white state. A very specu-
lative reasoner might certainly defend the hypothesis, of
the change of species in a long course of ages, from the
establishment of particular characters as hereditary. It
might be said that trout, after having thickened their
stomachs by feeding on larvae, with hard cases, gained
the power of eating shell fish, and were gradually
changed to gillaroos and to char ; their red spots and the
yellow colour of their belly and fins increasing. In the
same manner it might be said, that the large trout, which

54 SALMONIA.

feed almost entirely on small fishes, gained more spines
in the pectoral fins, and became a new species ; but /
shall not go so far ; and I know no facts of this kind.
The gillaroo and the char appear always with the same
characters ; and I have never seen any fish that seemed
in a state of transition from a trout to a gillaroo or a
char; which, I think, must have been the case, if such
changes took place. I hope, after this explanation, Phy-
sicus will not find any analogy between my ideas and
those of a school, to which I am not ambitious of being
thought to belong : and that he will allow my views to
be sound, or at least founded upon correct analogies.

PoiET. — Do you know any facts of a similar kind, in
confirmation of your idea that the par is a mule ?

Hal. — I have heard of similar instances, but I cannot
say I have myself witnessed them. The common carp
and the cruscian are said to produce a mixed race — and
likewise the rud and the roach ; but I have never paid
much attention to varieties of the carp kind. A friend
of mine informed me, that in a branch of the Test, into
which graylings had recently been introduced, his fisher-
man caught a fish, which appeared to be from a cross
between the trout and grayling, having the high back fin
of the grayling, and the head and spots of the trout :
this is the more remarkable, if correct, as the grayling
spawns in the late spring, and the trout in the late
autumn or winter : yet I do recollect that I once took a
grayling in the end of November, in which the ova were
so large, as nearly to be ready for protrusion. The
fisherman of the Griindtl See, in Styria, informed me,
that he had seen a fish which he believed to be a mule
between the trout and char, the fins of which resembled
those of a trout, though the body was in other respects
like that of a char. The seasons at which these two

VARIETIES OF TROUT. 55

species spawn approach nearer to each other ; but the
char spawns in still, and the trout in running water. In
general, the trout are mature before the char ; yet I
have seen in the Leopoldstein See, in Styria, a female
char, of which the eggs were almost fully developed as
early as June : the fisherman of the Griindtl See said,
that these peculiar fish were very rare, and that he
caught only one in about 500 char. It is not, I think,
impossible, that it may be an umbla, a fish that might
be expected to be found in that deep, cold, Alpine lake,
a peculiar species, and not a mixed variety. It is a fer-
tile and very curious subject for new experiments, that
of crossing the breeds of fishes, and offers a very inte-
resting and untouched field of investigation, which I
hope will soon be taken up by some enlightened country
gentleman, who in this way might make not only cu-
rious, but useful discoveries.

PoiET. — So much science would be required to make
these experiments with success, and there would be so
many difficulties in the way of preserving fishes at the
time they are proper for re-production, that I fear very
few country gentlemen would be capable of prosecuting
the inquiry.

Hal. — The science required for this object is easily
attained, and the difficulties are quite imaginary. Mr.
Jacobi, a German gentleman, who made many years
ago experiments on the increase of trout and salmon,
informs us that the ova and milt of mature fish, recently
dead, will produce living offspring. His plan of raising
trout from the egg, was a very simple one. He had a
box made with a small wire grating at one end in the
cover, for admitting water from a fresh source or stream,
and at the other end of the side of the box there were a
number of holes to permit the exit of the water : the

56 SALMONIA.

bottom of the box was filled with pebbles and gravel of
different sizes, which were kept covered with water that
was always in motion. In November, or the beginning
of December, when the trout were in full maturity for
spawning, and collected in the rivers for this purpose
upon beds of gravel, he caught males and females in a
net, and, by the pressure of his hands, received the ova
in a basin of water, and suffered the milt to pass into
the basin ; and after they had remained a few minutes
together, he introduced them upon the gravel in the
box, which was placed under a source of fresh, cool,
and pure water. Tn a few weeks the eggs burst, and the
box was filled with an immense number of young trout,
which had a small bag attached to the lower part of their
body, containing a part of the yolk of the egg, which
was still their nourishment. In this state they were
easily carried from place to place in confined portions
of fresh water for some days, requiring, apparently, no
food ; but, after about a week, the nourishment in their
bag being exhausted, they began to seek their food in
the water, and rapidly increased in size. As I have
said before, Mr. Jacobi assures us, that the experiment
succeeded as well with mature fish, that had been killed
for the purpose of procuring the roe and milt, these
having been mixed together in cold water immediately
after they were taken out of the body. I have had this
experiment tried twice, and wdth perfect success ; and it
offers a very good mode of increasing, to any extent, the
quantity of trout in rivers or lakes, — for the young ones
are preserved from the attacks of fishes, and other vo-
racious animals or insects, at the time when they are
most easily destroyed, and perfectly helpless. The
same plan, I have no doubt, would answer equally well
with grayling, or other varieties of the salmo genus.

VARIETIES OF TROUT. 57

But, in all experiments of this kind, the great principle
is, to have a constant current of fresh and aerated water
running over the eggs. The uniform supply of air to
the foetus in the egg, is essential for its life and growth,
and such eggs as are not supplied with water, saturated
with air, are unproductive. The experimenter must be
guided exactly by the instinct of the parent fishes, who
take care to deposit the eggs, that are to produce their
offspring, only in sources continually abounding in fresh
and aerated water.

Phys. — But as every species of fish has a particular
and usually different time for spawning, I do not see
how it could be contrived to cross their breeds, or how
the ova of a trout, which spawns in December, could be
influenced by the milt of the grayling, which spawns in
May ; for I conclude it would be impossible to preserve
the eggs of a fish out of the body, in a state in which
they could retain or recover their vitality.

Hal. — I believe I mentioned before, that I had found
instances in which the ova of fish were developed at a
different period from their natural one ; and I have no
doubt, that a little inquiry respecting the habits of
fishes, would enable us to acquire a knowledge of the
circumstances which either hasten or retard their ma-
turity. Plenty of food, and a genial season, hasten the
period of their re-production, which is delayed by want
of proper nourishment, and by unfavourable weather.
Males and females likewise, confined from each other,
have their re-productive powers impeded; and trout,
grayling, and salmon, will not deposit their ova except
in running water ; so that, by keeping them in tanks,
the period of their maturity might be considerably
altered. I have seen char even which had been kept in
confined water from September till July ; and so slow

D 5

58 SALMOXIA.

had been the progress of the ova, that they appeared to
be about this time fit for exclusion ; though, in the na-
tural course of things, they would have been ripe in the
end of October of the year before. By attending to,
and controlling all these circumstances, I have no doubt
many interesting experiments might be made, as to the
possibility of modifying the varieties of the salmon, by
mixing the ova of one species with the milt of another.
With fishes of other genera, the task would be still more
easy. Carp, perch, and pike deposit their ova in still
water in spring and summer, when it is supplied with
air by the growth of vegetables : and it is to the leaves
of plants, which afford a continual supply of oxygen to
the water, that the eggs usually adhere ; so that re-
searches of this kind might be conducted within doors
in close vessels, filled with plants, exposed to the sun.
I have myself kept minnows and sticklebacks alive for
many months in the same confined quantity of water,
containing a few confervas ; and their ova and milt in-
creased in the same manner, as if the}^ had been in their
natural situation.

Orn. — I conclude from your statements, Halieus,
that nothing more is required for the production of
fishes from impregnated eggs, than a constant supply of
water of a certain temperature furnished with air ; and
of course the same principles will apply to fishes of the

sea.

Hal. — There can be no doubt of it : and fishes in
spawning time always approach great shallows, or shores
covered with weeds, that, in the process of their growth,
under the influence of the sunshine, constantly supply
pure air to the water in contact with them.

PoiET. — In everything belonging to the economy of
nature, I find new reasons for wondering at the designs

MORNING FISHING. 59

of Providence, — at the infinite intelligence by which so
inanj^ complicated effects are produced by the most
simple causes. The precipitation of water from the at-
mosphere, its rapid motion in rivers, and its falls in ca-
taracts, not only preserve this element pure, but give it
its vitality, and render it subservient even to the embryo
life of the fish ; and the storms which agitate the ocean,
and mingle it with the atmosphere, supply at once food
to marine plants, and afford a principle of life to the
fishes which inhabit its depths. So that the perturba-
tion and motion of the winds and waves possess a use,
and ought to impress us with a beauty higher and more
delightful even than that of the peaceful and glorious
calm.

THIRD DAY.
HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICUS.

SCENE DENHAM.

Moj'Tiing.

Hal. — You will soon take your leave, gentlemen, of
this agreeable villa, but we must catch at least two brace
of trout, to carry with us to London as a present for
two worthy patrons of the angle. For though I know
our liberal host will have a basket of fish packed up for
each of our party, yet fish taken this morning will be
imagined a more acceptable present than those caught
yesterday. The May-fly is already upon the water,
though not in great quantity, — and it will consequently
be more easy to catch the fish, which I see are rising
with great activity. I advise you to go to the deep

60 SALMONIA.

water below, where you will find the largest fish, and I
will soon follow you.

PoiET. — I hope I shall catch a large fish, — a com-
panion to that which Ornither took yesterday with a
natural fly.

\_Halieus leaves them Jishing, and returns to the house ;
hut soon comes back and joins his companions, whom he
finds Jishing below in the river^

Hal. — Well, gentlemen, what sport?
PoiET. — The fish are rising every where ; but though
we have been throwing over them with all our skill for
a quarter of an hour, yet not a single one will take, and
I am afraid we shall return to breakfast without our prey.
Hal. — I will try ; but I shall go to the other side,
where I see a very large fish rising. There ! — I have
him at the very first throw. Land this fish, and put
him into the well. Now I have another : and I have no
doubt I could take half-a-dozen in this very place, where
you have been so long fishing without success.

Phys. — You must have a different fly ; or have you
some unguent or charm to tempt the fish ?

Hal. — No such thing. If any of you will give me
your rod and fly, I will answer for it 1 shall have the
same success. I take your rod, Physicus. — And lo ! I
have a fish !

Phvs. — What can be the reason of this ? It is per-
fectly inexplicable to me. Yet Poietes seems to throw
as light as you do, and as well as he did yesterday.

Hal. — I am surprised that you, who are a philo-
sopher, cannot discover the reason of this. Think a
little.

All. — We cannot.

SHADOWS— SUNSHINE. 61

Hal. — As you are my scholars, I believe I must
teach you. The sun is bright, and you have been, na-
turally enough, fishing with your backs to the sun,
which, not being very high, has thrown the shadows of
your rods and yourselves upon the water, and you have
alarmed the fish, whenever you have thrown a fly. You
see I have fished with my face towards the sun, and
though inconvenienced by the light, have given no
alarm. Follow my example, and you will soon have
sport, as there is a breeze playing on the water.

Phys. — Your sagacity puts me in mind of an anec-
dote which I remember to have heard respecting the
late eloquent statesman, Charles James Fox ; who,
walking up Bond -street from one of the club-houses
with an illustrious personage, laid him a wager that he
would see more cats than the Prince in his walk, and
that he might take which side of the street he liked.
When they got to the top, it was found that Mr. Fox
had seen thirteen cats, and the Prince not one. The
royal personage asked for an explanation of this ap-
parent miracle, and Mr. Fox said, " Your Royal High-
ness took, of course, the shady side of the v^^ay, as most
agreeable ; I knew that the sunny side would be left to
me, and cats always prefer the sunshine."

Hal. — There ! Poietes, by following my advice, you
have immediately hooked a fish ; and while you are
catching a brace, I will tell you an anecdote, w^hich as
much relates to fly-fishing, as that of Physicus, and
affords an elucidation of a particular effect of light.

A manufacturer of carmine, who was aware of the su-
periority of the French colour, went to Lyons for the
purpose of improving his process, and bargained with
the most celebrated manufacturer in that capital, for the
acquisition of his secret, for which he was to pay a

62 SALMONIA.

thousand pounds. He was shown all the processes, and
saw a beautiful colour produced ; yet he found not the
least difference in the French mode of fabrication, and
that which he had constantly adopted. He appealed
to the manufacturer, and insisted that he must have con-
cealed something. The manufacturer assured him that
he had not, and invited him to see the process a second
time. He minutely examined the water and the ma-
terials, which were the same as his own, — and, very
much surprised, said, " I have lost my labour and my
money, for the air of England does not permit us to
make good carmine." " Stay," says the Frenchman, "do
not deceive yourself: what kind of weather is it now?"
" A bright sunny day," said the Englishman. " And
such are the days," said the Frenchman, " on which I
make my colour. Were I to attempt to manufacture it
on a dark or cloudy day, my result would be the same
as yours. Let me advise you, my friend, always to make
carmine on bright and sunny days." " I will," says the
Englishman ; " but I fear I shall make very little in
London."

PoiET. — Your anecdote is as much to the purpose as
Physicus's ; yet I am much obliged to you for the hint
respecting the effect of shadow, for I have several times
in May and June, had to complain of too clear a sky,
and wished, with Cotton, for

A day with not too bright a beam :
A warm, but not a scorching, sun.

Hal. — Whilst we have been conversing, the May-
flies, which were in such quantities, have become much
fewer ; and I believe the reasori is, that they have been
greatly diminished by the flocks of swallows, which
every where pursue them : I have seen a single swallow

THE SWALLOW. 63

take four, in less than a quarter of a minute, that were
descending to the water.

PoiET. — I delight in this living landscape ! The
swallow is one of my favourite birds, and a rival of the
nightingale ; for he cheers my sense of seeing as much
as the other does my sense of hearing. He is the glad
prophet of the year — the harbinger of the best season :
he lives a life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest forms
of nature : winter is unknown to him ; and he leaves the
green meadows of England in autumn, for the myrtle and
orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of Africa: —
he has always objects of pursuit, and his success is secure.
Even the beings selected for his prey are poetical, beauti-
ful, and transient. The ephemerae are saved by his means
from a slow and lingering death in the evening, and
killed in a moment, when they have known nothing of
life but pleasure. He is the constant destroyer of in-
sects,— the friend of man ; and, with the stork and ibis,
may be regarded as a sacred bird. His instinct, which
gives his appointed seasons, and teaches him always
when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing
from a Divine Source ; and he belongs to the Oracles of
Nature which speak the awful and intelligible language
of a present Deity.

64 SALMONIA.

FOURTH DAY.
HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICUS.

FISHING FOR SALMON AND SEA TROUT.

Scene — Loch Maree, West of Rosshire, Scotland. Time — Middle of

July.

PoiET. — I begin to be tired. This is really a long
da}' 's journey; and these last ten miles through bogs,
with no other view than that of mountains half hid in
mists, and brown waters that can hardly be called lakes,
and with no other trees than a few stunted birches, that
look so little alive, that they might be supposed imme-
diately descended from the bog-wood, every where scat-
tered beneath our feet, have rendered it extremely
tedious. This is the most barren part of one of the
most desolate countries I have ever passed through in
Europe ; and though the inn at Strathgarve is tolerable,
that of Auchnasheen is certainly the worst I have ever
seen, — and I hope the worst I shall ever see. We
ought to have good amusement at Pool Ewe, to com-
pensate us for this uncomfortable day's journey.

Hal. — I trust we shall have sport, as far as salmon
and sea trout can furnish sport. But the difficulties of
our journey are almost over. See, Loch Maree is
stretched at our feet, and a good boat with four oars will
carry us in four or five hours to our fishing ground ; a
time that will not be misspent, for this lake is not devoid
of beautiful, and even grand scenery.

PoiET. — The scenery begins to improve ; and that
cloud-breasted mountain on the left is of the best
character of Scotch mountains : these woods, likewise,
are respectable for this northern country. I think I see

4\ ^% ^ ^

EAGLES. 'V v,wv

islands also in the distance : and the quantity of*' tSlbud
always gives effect to this kind of view ; and perhaps,
without such assistance to the imagination, there would
be nothing even approaching to the sublime in these
countries ; but cloud and mist, by creating obscurity
and offering a substitute for greatness and distance, give
something of an Alpine and majestic character to this
region.

Orn. — As we are now fixed in our places in the boat,
you will surely put out a rod or two with a set of flies,
or try the tail of the par for a large trout or salmon :
our fishing will not hinder our progress.

Hal. — In most other lakes I should do so ; here I
have often tried the experiment, but never with success.
This lake is extremely deep, and there are few fish which
haunt it generally except char ; and salmon seldom rest
but in particular parts along the shore, which we shall
not touch. Our voyage will be a picturesque, rather
than an angling one. I see we shall have little occasion
for the oars, for a strong breeze is rising, and blowing
directly down the lake ; we shall be in it in a minute.
Hoist the sails ! On we go ! — we shall make our voyage
in half the number of hours I had calculated upon ; and
I hope to catch a salmon in time for dinner.

PoiET. — The scenery improves as we advance nearer
the lower parts of the lake. The mountains become
higher, and that small island or peninsula presents a
bold, craggy outline ; and the birch wood below it, and
the pines above, form a scene somewhat Alpine in
character. But what is that large bird soaring above the
pointed rock, towards the end of the lake ? Surely it is
an eagle !

Hal. — You are right, it is an eagle, and of a rare and
peculiar species — the gray or silver eagle, a noble bird !

Q6 SALMONIA.

From the size of the animal, it must be the female ; and
her aery is in that high rock. I dare say the male is not
far off.

Phys. — I think I see another bird, of a smaller size,
perched on the rock below, and which is similar in form.

Hal. — You do : it is the consort of that beautiful and
powerful bird ; and I have no doubt their young ones
are near at hand.

PoiET. — Look at the bird ! How she dashes into the
water, falling like a rock, and raising a column of spray :
she has dropped from a great height. And now she
rises again into the air: what an extraordinary sight !

Hal. — She is pursuing her prey, and is one of our
fraternity, — a catcher of fish. She has missed her quarry
this time, and has soared further down towards the
river, to fall again from a great height. There ! You
see her rise with a fish in her talons.

PoiET. — She gives interest to this scene, which I
hardly expected to have found. Pray are there many
of these animals in this country ?

Hal. — Of this species I have seen but these two, and
1 believe the young ones migrate as soon as they can
provide for themselves ; for this solitary bird requires a
large space to move and feed in, and does not allow its
offspring to partake its reign, or to live near it. Of
other species of the eagle, there are some in different
parts of the mountains, particularly of the osprey, and
the great fishing and brown eagle. I once saw a very
fine and interesting sight above one of the crags of Ben
Weevis, near Strathgarve, as I was going, on the 20th
of August, in pursuit of black game. Two parent eagles
were teaching their offspring — two young birds, the
manoeuvres of flight. They began by rising from the
top of a mountain in the eye of the sun (it was about

THE INN. 67

mid-day, and bright for this cHmate). They at first
made small circles, and the young birds imitated them ;
they paused on their wings, waiting till they had made
their first flight, and then took a second and larger gyra-^
tion, — always rising towards the sun, and enlarging
their circle of flight so as to make a gradually extending
spiral. The young ones still slowly followed, apparently
flying better as they mounted ; and they continued this
sublime kind of exercise, always rising, till they became
mere points in the air, and the young ones were lost,
and afterwards their parents, to our aching sight.^' But
we have touched the shore, and the lake has terminated ;
you are now on the river Ewe.

PoiET. — Are we to fish here ? It is a broad clear
stream, but I see no fish, and cannot think it a good
angling river.

Hal. — We are nearly a mile above our fishing station,
and we must first see our quarters and provide for our
lodging, before we begin our fishing : to the inn we have
only a short walk.

PoiET. — Why this inn is a second edition of Auch-
nasheen.

Hal. — The interior is better than the exterior, thanks
to the Laird of Brahan : we shall find one tolerable
room and bed ; and we must put up our cots and pro-
vide our food. What is our store, Mr. Purveyor ?

Phys. — I know w^e have good bread, tea, and sugar.
Then there is the quarter of roebuck presented to us
at Gordon Castle ; and Ornither has furnished us
with a brace of wild ducks, three leash of snipes, and a
brace of golden plovers, by his mountain expedition of
yesterday ; and for fish we depend on you. Yet our

* [This very poetical incident, the author described in Verse. Vide
Vol. I. p. 279.]

68 SALMONIA.

host says there are fresh herrings to be had, and small
codfish, and salmon and trout in any quantity, and the
claret and the Ferintosh are safe.

Hal. — Why we shall fare sumptuously. As it is not
time yet for shooting grouse, we must divide our spoil
for the few days we shall stay here. Yet there are
young snipes and plovers on the mountains above, and
I have no doubt we might obtain the Laird's permission
to kill a roebuck in the woods or a hart on the moun-
tains ; but this is always an uncertain event, and I ad-
vise you, Ornither, to become a fisherman.

Orn. — I shall wait till I see the results of your skill.
At all events, in this country I can never want amuse-
ment, and I dare say there are plenty of seals at the
mouth of the river, and killing them is more useful to
other fishermen than catching fish.

Hal. — Let there be a kettle of water with salt ready
boiling in an hour, mine host, for the fish we catch or
buy ; and see that the potatoes are well dressed : the
servants will look to the rest of our fare. Now for our
rods.

PoiET. — This is a fine river ; clear, full, but not too
large : with the two handed rod it may be commanded
in most parts.

Hal. — It is larger than usual. The strong wind
which brought us so quickly down has made it fuller ;
and it is not in such good order for fishing as it was be-
fore the wind rose.

PoiET. — I thought the river was always the better for
a flood, when clear.

Hal. — Better after a flood from rain ; for this brings
the fish up, who know when rain is coming, and like-
wise brings down food and makes the fish feed. But
when the water is raised by a strong wind, the fish

THE EWE. 69

never run, as they are sure to find no increase in the
Spring heads, which are their objects in running.

PoiET. — You give the fish credit for great sagacity.

Hal. — Call it instinct rather; for if they reasoned,
they v^rould run with every large water, whether from
wind or rain. What the feeling or power is, which
makes them travel with rain, I will not pretend to define.
But now for our sport.

PoiET. — The fish are beginning to rise ; I have seen
two here already, and there is a third, and a fourth
— scarcely a quarter of a minute elapses without a
fish rising in some parts of the pool.

Hal. — As the day is dark, I shall use a bright and
rather a large fly, with jay's hackle, kingfisher's feather
under the wing, and golden pheasant's tail, and wing of
mixed grouse and argus pheasant's tail. I shall throw
over these fish : I ought to raise one.

PoiET. — Either you are not skilful, or the fish know
their danger : they will not rise.

Hal. —I will try another and a smaller fly.

PoiET. — You do nothing.

Hal. — I have changed my fly a third time, yet no
fish rises. I cannot understand this. The water is not
in good order, or I should certainly have raised a fish
or two. Now I will wager ten to one, that this pool has
been fished before to-day.

Orn. — By whom ?

Hal. — I know not ; but take my wager and we will
ascertain.

Orn. — I shall ascertain without the wager if possible.
See, a man connected with the fishery advances, let us
ask him. — There you see ; it has been fished once or
twice by one, who claims without charter the right of
angling.

70 SALMONIA.

Hal. — I told you so. Now I know this, I shall put
on another kind of fly, such as I am sure they have not
seen this day.

PoiET. — It is very small and very gaudy, I believe
made with humming bird's feathers.

Hal. — No. The brightest Java dove's hackle, king-
fisher's blue, and golden pheasant's feathers, and the red
feathers of the paroquet. There was a fish that rose
and missed the fly — a sea trout. There, he has taken it,
a fresh run fish, from his white belly and blue back.

PoiET. — How he springs out of the water ! He must
be 6 or 7 lbs.

Hal. — Under five, I am sure ; he will soon be tired.
He fights with less spirit : put the net under him.
There, he is a fine-fed sea trout, between 4 and 5 lbs.
But our intrusive brother angler (as I must call him) is
coming down the river to take his evening cast. A
stout Highlander, with a powerful tail, — or, as we should
call it in England, suite. He is resolved not to be
driven off, and I am not sure that the Laird himself
could divert him from his purpose, except by a stronger
tail, and force of arms ; but I will try my eloquence
upon him. " Sir, we hope you will excuse us for fish-
ing in this pool, where it seems you were going to take
your cast ; but the Laird has desired us to stand in his
shoes for a few days, and has given up angling while wd
are here ; and as we come nearly a thousand miles for
this amusement, we are sure you are too much of a gen-
tleman to spoil our sport; and we will take care to
supply your fish kettle while we are here, morning and
evening, and we shall send you, as we hope, a salmon
before night."

PoiET. — He grumbles good sport to us, and is off with
his tail : you have hit him in the right place. He is

SALMON. 71

a pot fisher, I am sure, and somewhat hungry, and pro
vided he gets the salmon, does not care who catches it !
, Hal. — You are severe on the Highland gentleman,
and I think extremely unjust. Nothing could be more
ready than his assent, and a keen fisherman must not
be expected to be in the best possible humour, when he
finds sport which he believes he has a right to, and
which perhaps he generally enjoys without interruption,
taken away fi:om him by entire strangers. There is, I
know, a disputed point about fishing with the rod, be-
tween him and the Laird ; and it w^ould have been too
much to have anticipated a courteous greeting fi:om one,
who considers us as the repn sentatives of an enemy.
But I see there is a large fish v, hich has just risen at the
tail of the pool. I think he is fresh run from the sea,
for the tide is coming in. My fly and tackle are almost
too fine for so large a fish, and I will put on my first
fly with a very strong single gut link and a stretcher of
triple gut. He has taken my fly, and I hold liim~a
powerful fish : he must be between 10 and 15 lbs. He
fights well, and tries to get up the rapid at the top of
the pool. I must try my strength with him, to keep
him off that rock, or he will break me. I have turned
him, and he is now in a good part of the pool : such a
fish cannot be tired in a minute or two, but requires
from ten to twenty, depending upon his activity and
strength, and the rapidity of the stream he moves
against. He is now playing against the strongest rapid
in the river, and will soon give in, should he keep his
present place.

PoiET. — You have tired him.

Hal. — He seems fairly tired: I shall bring him in to
shore. Now gaff him ; strike as near the tail as you
can. He is safe ; we must prepare him for the pot.

72 SALMONIA.

Give him a stunning blow on the head to deprive him
of sensation, and then make a transverse cut just below
the gills, and crimp him, by cutting to the bone on each
side, so as almost to divide him into slices : and now
hold him by the tail that he may bleed. There is a
small spring, I see, close under that bank, which I dare
say has the mean temperature of the atmosphere in this
climate, and is much under 50° — place him there, and
let him remain for ten minutes ; then carry him to the
pot, and before you put in a slice let the water and salt
boil furiously, and give time to the water to recover its
heat before you throw in another ; and so proceed with
the whole fish : leave the head out, and throw in the
thickest pieces first.

Phys. — Why did you not crimp your trout?

Hal. — We will have him fried. Our poacher pre-
vented me from attending to the preparation ; but for
frying he is better not crimped, as he is not large enough
to give good transverse slices.

PoiET. — This salmon is a good fish, and fresh, as you
said, from the sea. You see the salt-water louse adheres
to his sides, and he is bright and silvery, and a thick
fish ; I dare say his weight is not less than 14 lbs., and
I know of no better fish for the table, than one of that
size.

Phys. — It appears to me that so powerful a fish
ought to have struggled much longer : yet, without great
exertions on your part, in ten minutes he appeared quite
exhausted, and lay on his side, as if dying ; this induces
me to suppose, that there must be some truth in the
vulgar opinion of anglers, that fish are, as it were,
drowned by the play of the rod and reel.

Hal. — The vulgar opinion of anglers on this subject,
I believe to be perfectly correct : though, to apply the

SALMON. / 6

word drowning to an animal that lives in the water, is
not quite a fit use of language. Fish, as you ought to
know, respire by passing water, which always holds
common air in solution, through their gills or bronchial
membrane, by the use of a system of muscles surround-
ing the fauces, which occasion constant contractions and
expansions, or openings and closings of this membrane,
and the life of the fish is dependent on the process, in
the same manner as that of a quadruped is, on inspiring
and expiring air. When a fish is hooked in the upper
part of the mouth, by the strength of the rod applied as
a lever to the line, it is scarcely possible for him to open
the gills, as long as this force is exerted, particularly
when he is moving in a rapid stream ; and when he is
hooked in the lower jaw, his mouth is kept closed by the
same application of the strength of the rod, so that no
aerated water can be inspired. Under these circum-
stances, he is quickly deprived of his vital forces, parti-
cularly when he exhausts his strength by moving in a
rapid stream. A fish, hooked in a part of the mouth
where the force of the rod will render his efforts to
respire unavailing, is much in the same state as that of
a deer caught round the neck by the lasso of a South
American peon, who gallops forwards, dragging his
victim after him, which is killed by strangulation, in a
very short time. When fishes are hooked foul, that is,
on the outside of the body, as in the fins or tail, they
will often fight for many hours ; and in such cases, verv
large salmon are seldom caught, as they retain their
powers of breathing unimpaired ; and if they do not ex-
haust themselves by violent muscular efforts, they may
bid defiance to the temper and the skill of the fisher-
man. A large salmon, hocked in the upper part of the
mouth, in the cartilage or bone, will sometimes likewise

VOL. IX. E

74 SALMONIA.

fight for a long while, particularly if he keep in the deep
and still parts of the river : for he is able to prevent the
force of the hook, applied by the rod, from interfering
with his respiration; and by a powerful effort, can
maintain his place, and continue to breathe, in spite
of the exertions of the angler. A fish, in such case, is
said to be sulky; and his instinct, or his sagacity, gene-
rally enables him to conquer his enemy. It is, however,
rarely that fishes hooked in the mouth are capable of
using freely the muscles subservient to respiration ; and
their powers are generally, sooner or later, destroyed
by suffocation.

PoiET. — The explanation that you have just been
giving us of the effects of playing fish, I confess, alarms
me, and makes me more afraid than I was before, that
we are pursuing a very cruel amusement; for death, by
strangling, I conceive, must be very laborious, slow, and
painful.

Phys. — I think as I did before I was an angler, as to
the merciless character of field-sports ; but I doubt if
this part of the process of the fly-fisher ought so strongly
to alarm your feelings. As far as analogies from warm-
blooded animals can apply to the case, the death that
follows obstructed respiration, is quick, and preceded by
insensibility^ There are many instances of persons who
have recovered from the apparent death produced by
drowning, and had no recollection of any violence or
intense agony ; indeed, the alarm or passion of fear, ge-
nerally absorbs all the sensibility, and the physical suf-
fering is lost in the mental agitation. I can answer from
my own experience, that there is no pain which pre-
cedes the insensibility occasioned by breathing gases
unfitted for supporting life, but oftener a pleasurable
feeling, as in the case of the respiration of nitrous oxide.

DEATH BY SUFFOCATION. 75

And in the suffocation produced by the gradual abstrac-
tion of air in a close room, where charcoal is burning,
we have the record of the son of a celebrated chemist,
that the sensation which precedes the deep sleep that
ends in death, is agreeable. There is far more pain in
recovering from the insensibility produced by the ab-
straction of air, than in undergoing it, as I can answer
from my own feelings ; and it is, I believe, quite true,
what has been asserted, that the pain of being born,
which is acqiuring the power of respiration, is greater
than that of dying, which is losing the power.

Orn. — I have heard that persons, who have been re-
covered from the insensibility produced by hanging,
have never any recollection of the sufferings which pre-
ceded it ; and as the blood is immediately determined
to the head in this operation, probably apoplectic insen-
sibility is almost instantaneous.

Hal. — The laws of nature are all directed by Divine
Wisdom for the purpose of preserving life, and increas-
ing happiness. Pain seems in all cases to precede the
mutilation or destruction of those organs which are es-
sential to vitality, and for the end of preserving them ;
but the mere process of dying, seems to be the falling
into a deep slumber ; and in animals, who have no fear
of death dependent upon imagination, it can hardly be
accompanied by very intense suffering. In the human
being, moral and intellectual motives constantly operate
in enhancing the fear of death, which, without these
motives in a reasoning being, would probably become
null, and the love of life be lost upon every slight occa-
sion of pain or disgust ; but imagination is creative with
respect to both these passions, which, if they exist in
animals, exist independent of reason, or as instincts.
Pain seems intended by an all-wise Providence to pre-

E 2

76 SALMONIA.

vent the dissolution of organs, and cannot follow their
destruction, I know several instances in w^hich the pro-
cess of death has been observed, even to its termination,
by good philosophers ; and the instances arc worth re-
peating : Dr. CuUen, when dying, is said to have faintly
articulated to one of his intimates, " I wish I had the
power of writing or speaking, for then I would describe
to you how pleasant a thing it is to die." Dr. Black,
worn out by age, and a disposition to pulmonary he-
morrhage, which obliged him to live very low, whilst
eating his customary meal of bread and milk, fell asleep,
and died in so tranquil a manner, that he had not even
spilt the contents of the cup which rested on his knee.
And the late Sir Charles Blagden, whilst at a social meal
with his friends, Mons. and Mad. Bertholiet and Gay
Lussac, died in his chair so quietly, that not a drop of the
coifee in the cup which he held, in his hand, was spilt.

PoiET. — Give us no more such instances, for I do not
think it wise to diminish the love of life, or to destroy
the fear of death.

Hal. — There is no danger of this. These passions
are founded on immutable laws of our nature, which
philosophy cannot change ; and it would be good, if we
could give the same security of duration to the love of
virtue, and the fear of vice or shame, which are con-
nected with immutable interests, and which ought to
occupy far more the consideration of beings destined for
immortality. — But to our business.

Now we have fish for dinner, my task is finished :
Physicus and Poietes, try your skill. I have not fished
over the best parts of this pool : you may catch a brace
of fish here before dinner is ready.

Phys. — It is too late ; and I shall go and see that all
is right.

SEA-TROUT. 77

PoiET.^ — I will take one or two casts; but give me
your fly : I like always to be sure that the tackle is
taking.

Hal. — Try at first the very top of the pool, — though
I fear you will get nothing there ; but here is a cast
which I think the Highlander can hardly have com-
manded from the other side, and which is rarely with-
out a good fish. There, he rose : a large trout of 10 lbs.,
or a salmon. Now wait a few minutes. When a fish
has missed the fly, he will not rise again till after a
pause — particularly if he has been for some time in the
fresh water. Now try him again. He has risen, but he
is a dark fish, that has been some time in the water, and
he tries to drown the fly with a blow of his tail. I fear
you will not hook him, except foul, — when most likely
he would break you. Try the bottom of the pool, below^
where I caught my fish.

PoiET.- — I have tried all the casts, and nothing rises.

Hal. — Come, we will change the fly for that which I
used.

PoiET. — Now I have one : he has taken the fly under
water, and I cannot see him.

Hal. — Straighten your line, and we shall soon see
him. He is a sea-trout, but not a large one.

PoiET. — But he fights like a salmon, and must be
near 5 lbs.

Hal. — Under 3 lbs. ; but these fish are always strong
and active, and sometimes give more sport than larger
fish. Shorten your line, or he will carry you over the
stones and cut the link gut. He is there already: you
have allowed him to carry out too much line ; wind up
as quick as you can, and keep a tight hand upon him.
He is now back to a good place, and in a few minutes
more will be spent. I have the net. There, he is a

78 SALMONIA.

sea- trout of nearly 3 lbs. This will be a good addition
to our dinner : I will crimp him, that you may compare
boiled sea-trout with broiled, and with salmon. Now,
if you please, we will cool this fish at the spring, and
then go to our inn.

PoiET. — If you like. I am endeavouring to find a
reason for the effect of crimping and cold in preserving
the curd of fish. Have you ever thought on this subject ?

Hal. — Yes : I conclude that the fat of salmon be-
tween the flakes of the muscles, is mixed with much
albumen and gelatine, and is extremely liable to decom-
pose ; and by keeping it cool, the decomposition is re-
tarded : and by the boiling salt and water, which is of a
higher temperature than that of common boiling water,
the albumen is coagulated, and the curdiness preserved.
The crimping, by preventing the irritability of the fibre
from being gradually exhausted, seems to preserve it so
hard and crisp, that it breaks under the teeth ; and a
fresh fish, not crimped, is generally tough. A friend of
mine, an excellent angler, has made some experiments
on the fat of fish ; and he considers the red colour of
trout, salmon, and char, as owing to a peculiar coloured
oil, which may be extracted by alcohol ; and this ac-
counts for the want of it in fish that have fed ill, and
after spawning. In general, the depth of the red colour
and the quantity of curd are proportional,

PoiET. — Would not the fish be still better, or at least
possess more curd, if caught in a net and killed imme-
diately? In the operation of tiring by the reel, there
must be considerable muscular exertion, and I should
suppose expenditure of oily matter.

Hal. — There can be no doubt but the fish would be
in a more perfect state for the table from the nets ; yet a
fish in high season does not lose so much fat during the

CRIMPING. 79

short time he is on the hook, as to make much differ-
ence ; and I am not sure that the action of crimping
after, does not give a better sort of crispness to the
fibre. This, however, may be fancy ; we will discuss the
matter again at table. See ! our companion on the lake,
the eagle, is coming down the river, and has pounced
upon a fish in the pool near the sea.

Phys. — I fear he will interfere with our sport : let us
request Ornither to shoot him. I wish to see him
nearer, and to preserve him as a specimen for the Zoo-
logical Society.

Hal. — O! no. He will not spoil our sport; and I
think it would be a pity to deprive this spot of one of its
poetical ornaments. Besides, the pool where he is now
fishing, contains scarcely anything but trout ; it is too
shallow for salmon, who run into the cruives.

PoiET. — I am of your opinion, and shall use my elo-
quence to prevent Ornither from attempting the life of
so beautiful a bird ; so majestic in its form, so well suited
to the scenery, and so picturesque in all its habits.

The Innkeeper. — Gentlemen, dinner is ready.

THE DINNER.

Hal. — Now take your places. What think you of
our fish ?

Phys. — I never ate better ; but I want the Harvey or
Reading sauce.

Hal. — Pray let me entreat you to use no other sauce
than the water in which he was boiled. I assure you
this is the true Epicurean way of eating fresh salmon :
and for the trout, use only a little vinegar and mustard,
— a sauce a la Tartare, without the onions.

PoiET. — Well, nothing can be better; and I do not
think fresh net-caught fish can be superior to these.

80 SALMONIA.

Hal. — And these snipes are excellent. Either mv
journey has given me an appetite, or I think they are
the best I ever tasted.

Orn. — They are good ; but I have tasted better.

Hal.— Where ?

Orn. — On the continent; where the common snipe,
that rests during its migration from the north to the
south in the marshes of Italy and Carniola, and the
double or solitary snipe, become so fat, as to resemble
that bird, which was formerly fattened in Lincolnshire,
the ruff; and they have, I think, a better flavour from
being fed on their natural food.

Hal. — At what time have you eaten them ?

Orn. — I have eaten them, both in spring and autumn ;
but the autumnal birds are the best, and are like the
ortolan of Italy.

Hal. — Where does the double snipe winter?

Orn. — I believe in Africa and Asia Minor. They
are rarely seen in England, except driven by an east
wind in the spring, or a strong north wind in the
autumn. Their natural progress is to and from Finland
and Siberia, through the continent of Europe, to and
from the east and south. * In autumn they pass more

* From the food, and the remains of food, found in the stomach of
the double snipe, I think I have ascertained that it requires a kind of
worm, which is not found in winter, even in the temperate climes of
Europe ; and that it feeds differently from the snipe. There are certainly
none found after the end of October in either Illyria or Italy ; and I be-
lieve the same may be said of the end of May, as to their summer migra-
tion, or their breeding migration. I have opened the stomachs of at
least a dozen of these birds, and their contents were always of the same
kind, long, slender, white hexapode larvae, or their skins, of different
sizes, from that of the maggot of the horse fly, to one thrice as long. In
the stomach of the common snipe, which is stronger and larger, I have
generally found earth-worms, and often seeds, and rice, and gravel. I
conjecture that, in the temperate climates of Europe, most of the aquatic

THE DINNER. 81

east, both because they are aided by west winds, and
because the marshes in the east of Europe, are wetter
in that season ; and in spring they return, but the larger

larvae, on which the solitary snipe feeds, are converted into flies in the
spring and autumn, which probably limits the period of their migration.
In 1827, the solitary snipe passed through Italy and Illyria, between
the loth of March and the Gth of May. I heard of the first at Ravenna
the 17th of March, and I shot two near Laybach, on the 5th of May; but
though I was continually searching for them for a fortnight after, I found
no more. This year they returned from the north early : and I saw
some in the marshes of Illyria, on the 19th of August. In 1828, they
were later in their vernal passage, and likewise in their return. I found
them in Illyria through May, as late as the 17th, on which day I shot
three ; and they did not re-appear till the beginning of September. I
found one on the 3rd, and three on the 4th, — and twenty were shot on
the 7th.

As this bird is rarely seen in England, I shall mention its peculiarities.
It is more than one-third larger than the common snipe, and has a breast
spotted with gray feathers. Its beak is shorter than that of the snipe ;
the old ones have feathers almost pure white in their tails, — and as they
spread tiiem when rising, they are easily distinguished by this character
from the snipe ; but in the young birds that I have seen in August, this
■character was wanting. They are usually very fat, particularly the
young birds ; their weight varies from six to nine ounces; but even the
fattest ones are rarely above seven ounces and a half; and though I have
killed more than a hundred, I can speak of half-a-dozen only that
weighed above eight ounces and a half. In spring they are usually found
in pairs ; the female being rather larger, and having a paler breast : in
autumn they are solitary. They prefer wet meadows to bogs, or large,
deep marshes. They usually lie closer than snipes, and seldom fly far.
Their flight is straight, like that of a jack snipe ; and they are easily
shot.

Attention to the migrations of birds, might, I have no doubt, lead to
important indications respecting the character and changes of the
weather and seasons. The late migration of the solitary snipe, this
year (1828), seems to have been an indication of a wet and backward
summer in the north of Europe. But to form opinions upon facts of this
kind, requires much knowledge and caution. The perfection of the pe-
culiar larvae on which this snipe feeds, depends upon a number of circum-
stances ; the temperature of the last year; the period when the eggs
were laid ; the heat of the water when they were deposited ; and the
quantity of rain since. The migration of the solitary snipe, is only one

E 5

82 SALMONIA.

proportion through Italy, where they are carried by the
Sirocco, and which at that time is extremehj wet. Come,
let us have another bottle of claret : a pint per man, is
not too much after such a day's fatigue.

link in a great chain of causes and effects, all connected, and extending
from Africa to Siberia.

I shall say a few words on the congeners of this bird (the solitary snipe)
and on the three varieties so much better known in Europe. The wood-
cock feeds indiscriminately upon earthworms, small beetles, and various
kinds of larvae ; and its stomach sometimes contains seeds, which I sus-
pect have been taken up in boring amongst the excrements of cattle ; yet
the stomach of this bird has something of the gizzard character, though
not so much as that of the land- rail, which I have found half filled with
seeds of grasses, and even containing corn, mixed with May-bugs, earth-
worms, grasshoppers, and caterpillars. The woodcock, I believe, breeds
habitually only in high northern latitudes ; yet there are woods in Eng-
land, particularly one in Sussex, near the borders of Hampshire, in which
one or two couple of these birds, it is said, may always be found in
summer. I suspect these woodcocks are from the offspring of birds
which had paired for their passage, and which were detained by an ac-
cident happening to one of them, and which staid and raised a young
brood in England; and the young ones probably had their instincts
-altered by the accidents of their being born in England, and being in a
place well supplied with food. It is not improbable, that they raised
likewise young ones, and that the habit of staying has become heredi-
tary. There can be no doubt that woodcocks are very constant to their
local attachments ; woodcocks, that have been preserved in a particular
wood for a winter, always return to it, if possible, the next season.
Many woodcocks breed in Norway and Sweden, in the great, extensive,
and moist pine woods, filled with bogs and morasses, which cover these
wild countries, but probably a still greater number breed further north,
in Lapland, Finland, Kussia, and Siberia. It is, I believe, a fable, that
they ever raise their young habitually in the high Alpine or mountainous
countries, of the central or southern parts of Europe. These countries,
indeed, in summer, are very little fitted for their feeding ; they cannot
bore, where it is either dry or frosty ; and the glacier, or the arid sand or
rock, are equally unfitted for their haunts. They leave the north with
the first frost, and travel slowly south, till they come to their accus-
tomed winter quarters ; they do not usually make a quick voyage, but
fly from wood to wood, reposing and feeding on their journey : they pre-
fer for their haunts, woods near marshes or morasses ; they hide them-

THE DINNER. 83

Hal. — You have made me president for these four
days, and I forbid it. A half pint of wine for young

selves under thick bushes in the day, and fly abroad to feed in the dusk
of the evening. A laurel, or a holly-bush is a favourite place for their
repose : the thick and varnished leaves of those trees prevent the radia-
tion of heat from the soil, and they are less affected by the refrige-
rating influence of a clear sky, so that they afford a warm seat for the
woodcock. Woodcocks usually begin to fly north on the first approach
of spring, and their flights are generally longer, and their rests fewer,
at this season than in the autumn. In the autumn they are driven from
the north to the south by the want of food, and they stop wherever they
can find food. In the spring, there is the influence of another powerful
instinct added to this, the sexual feeling. They migrate in pairs, and pass
as speedily as possible to the place where they are likely to find food,
and to raise their young, and of which the old birds have already
had the experience of former years. Scarcely any woodcocks winter in
any part of Germany. In France there are a few found, particularly in
the southern provinces, and in Normandy and Brittany. The woods of
England, particularly of the west and south, contain always a certain
quantity of woodcocks, but there are far more in the moist soil and warmer
climate of Ireland ; but in the woods of southern Italy and Greece, near
marshes, they are far more abundant ', and they extend in quantities over
the Greek Islands, Asia Minor, and northern Africa.

The snipe is one of the most generally distributed birds belonging to
Europe. It feeds upon almost every kind of worm, or larvae, and, as I
have said before, its stomach sometimes contains seeds and ricej it pre-
fers a country cold in the summer to breed in ; but wherever there is
much fluid water, and great morasses, this bird is almost certain to be
found. Its nest is very inartificial, its eggs large, and the young ones
soon become of an enormous size, being, often before they can fly, larger
than their parents. Two young ones are usually the number in a nest,
but I have seen three. Tae old birds are exceedingly attached to their
offspring, and if any one approaches near the nest they make a loud and
drumming noise above the head, as if to divert the attention of the intruder.
A few snipes always breed in the marshes of England and Scotland, but a
far greater number retire for this purpose to the Hebrides and the Orkneys.
In the heather surrounding a small lake in the island of Hoy, in the Ork-
neys, I found in the month of August, 1817, the nest often or twelve couple
of snipes. I was grouse-shouting, and my dog continually pointed them,
and, as there were sometimes three young ones and two old ones in the
nest, this had a most powerful scent. From accident of the season these
snipes were very late in being hatched, for they usually fly before the

84 SALMON lA.

men in perfect health is enough, and you will be able to
take your exercise better, and feel better for this absti-
nence. How few people calculate upon the effects of
constantly renewed fever, in our luxurious system of

middle of July ; but this year, even as late as the 15th of August, there
were many young snipes that had not yet their wing feathers. Snipes are
usually fattest in frosty weather, which, I believe, is owing to this, that
in such weather they haunt only warm springs, where worms are abun-
dant, and they do not willingly quit these places, so that they have
plenty of nourishment and rest, both circumstances favourable to fat.
In wet open weather they are often obliged to make long flights, and
their food is more distributed. The jack-snipe feeds upon smaller insects
than the snipe : small white larvcc, such as are found in black bogs,
are its favourite food, but I have generally found seeds in its stomach,
once hemp-seeds, and always gravel. I know not where the jack-snipe
breeds, but I suspect far north. I never saw their nest or young ones
In Germany, France, Hungary, Illyria, or the British Islands. The
common snipe breeds in great quantities in the extensive marshes of
Hungary and Illyria; but I do not think the jack-snipe breeds there,
for, even in July and August, with the first very dry weather, many
snipes, with ducks and teal, come into the marshes in the south of
Illyria, but the jack-snipe is always later in its passEge, later even than
the double snipe, or the woodcock. In 1828, in the drains about Lay-
bach, in Illyria, common snipes were seen in the middle of July. The
first double snipes appeared the first week in September, when likewise
woodcocks were seen ; the first jack-snipe did not appear till more than
three weeks later, the 29th of September. I was informed at Copenhagen,
that the jack-snipe certainly breeds in Zeeland, and I saw a nest with
its eggs, said to be from the island of Sandholm, opposite Copenhagen,
and I have no doubt that this bird and the double snipe sometimes make
their nests in the marshes of Holstein and Hanover. An excellent
sportsman and good observer informs rne, that, in the great royal decoy,
or marsh preserve, near Hanover, he has had ocular proofs of double-
snipes being raised from the nest there ; but these birds require solitude
and perfect quiet, and, as their food is peculiar, they demand a great ex-
tent of marshy meadow, Tlieir stomach is the thinnest amongst birds
of the scolopax tribe, and, as I have said before, their food seems to be
entirely larviE of a particular kind.

[These larvue, according to an able naturalist, who examined them at
Home, appear to be of Eporris cincta (Bonelli), carabus cinctus, auc-
torum.]

THE DINNER. 85

living in England ! The heart is made to act too power-
fully, blood is thrown upon the nobler parts, and, withthe
system of wading adopted by some sportsmen, whether
in shooting or fishing, is delivered either to the hemor-
rhoidal veins, or, what is worse, to the head. I have
known several free livers, who have terminated their
lives by apoplexy, or have been rendered miserable by
palsy, in consequence of the joint effects of cold feet
and too stimulating a diet; that is to say, as much
animal food as they could eat, with a pint or perhaps a
bottle of wine per day. Be guided by me, my friends, and
neither drink nor wade. I know there are old men who
have done both, and have enjoyed perfect health ; but
these are deviVs decoys to the unwary, and ten suffer for
for one that escapes. I could quote you an instance
from this very county, in one of the strongest men
have ever known. He was not intemperate, but he
lived luxuriously, and waded as a salmon fisher for many
years in this very river ; but before he was fifty, palsy
deprived him of the use of his limbs, and he is still a
living example of the danger of the system which you
are ambitions of adopting.

Orn. — Well, I give up the wine, but I intend to wade
in Hancook's boots to-morrow.

Hal. — Wear them, but do not wade in them. The
feet must become cold in a stream of v.ater constantly
passing over the caoutchouc and leather, notwithstanding
the thick stockings. They are good for keeping the
feet warm, and I think where there is exercise, as in
snipe shooting, they may be used without any bad
effects. But I advise no one to stand still (which an
angler must do sometimes) in the water, even with these
ingenious water-proof inventions. All anglers should
remember old Boerhaave's maxims of health, and act

86 SALMONIA.

upon them : " Keep the feet warm, the head cool, and
the body open."

Phys. — I am sorry we did not examine more minutely
the weight and size of the fish we caught, and compare
the anatomy of the salmon and the sea trout ; but we
were in too great a hurry to see them on the table, and
our philosophy yielded to our hunger.

Hal. — We shall have plenty of opportunities for this
examination ; and we can now walk down to the fishing-
house and see probably half a hundred fish of different
sizes, that have been taken in the cruives, this evening,
and examine them at our leisure.

All. — Let us go !

Phys. — I never saw so many fish of this kind before ;
and I conclude that heap of smaller fish is composed of
trout.

Hal. — Certainly. Let us compare one of the largest
trout with a salmon. I have selected two fresh-run
fish, which, from their curved lower jaws, are I con-
clude, both males. The salmon, you see is broader, has
a tail rather more forked, and the teeth in proportion
are rather smaller. The trout, likewise, has larger and
more black brown spots on the body ; and the head of
the trout is a little larger in proportion. The salmon has
14 spines in the pectoral fins, 10 in each of the ventral,
13 in the anal, 21 in the caudal, and 15 in the dorsal.
The salmon measures 38^ inches in length, and 21
inches in girth, and his weight, as you see, is 22 ^ lbs.
The trout has one spine less in the pectoral, and two
less in the anal fin, and measures 30^ inches in length,
16 inches in girth, and his weight is 11 lbs. We will
now open them. The stomach of the salmon, you per-

TROUT AND SALMON COMPARED. 87

ceive, contains nothing but a little yellow fluid, and
though the salmon is twice as large, does not exceed
much in size that of the trout. The stomach of the
trout, unlike that of the salmon, will be found full of
food : we will open it. See, there are half-digested
sand eels which come out of it.

Phys. — But surely the stomachs of salmon must some-
times, when opened, contain food ?

Hal. — I have opened ten or twelve, and never found
any thing in their stomachs but tape-worms, bred there,
and some yellow fluid ; but, I believe, this is generally
owing to their being caught at the time of migration,
when they are travelling from the sea upwards, and do
not willingly load themselves with food. Their digestion
appears to be very quick, and their habits seem to show^,
that after having taken a bait in the river they do not
usually seek another till the work of digestion is nearly
performed : but when they are taken at sea, and in
rivers in the winter, food, I am told, is sometimes found
in their stomachs.* The sea-trout is a much more
voracious fish, and, like the land trout, is not willingly
found with an empty stomach.

Phys, — I presume the sea trout is the fish called by
Linnaeus, in his Fauna, Salmo Eriox?

Hal. — I know not : but I should rather think that
fish a variety of the common salmon.

Phys. — But there are surely other species of salmon,
that live in the sea and come into our rivers : I have

* [An angler has assured me, that he has found the common earth-
worm in the stomach of a salmon of the Tay : in the sea, the sand-eel,
there is reason to believe, is its favourite food. It has been maintained
that the ova of various kinds of ecchinodermata and of certain Crustacea
are its sole food, and that its good qualities for the table depend on this
delicate diet ; but the strength of its teeth and their size, cannot be con-
sidered favourable to this opinion.]

88 SALMONIA.

heard of flsli chWcqI r/rai/s, hiU-trout, scurfs, morts, pealeSy
and w J titling s»

Hal. — I have never been able to identify more than
the salmo solar, or sahnon, and salmo trutta, or sea-trout,
in the rivers of Great Britain or Ireland. The whitlings
I believe to be the young of the sea-trout. A sea-trout
which I saw in Ireland, called a bull-trout, was of the
same kind as you see here ; but fresh-water trout are
sometimes carried in floods to the sea, and come back
larger and altered in colour and form, and are then mis-
taken for new species : and as each river possesses a
peculiar variety belonging to it, this, with differences
depending upon food and size, will, I think, account for
the peculiarities of particular fish, without the necessity
of supposing them distinct species. I remember, many
years ago, the first time I ever fished for salmon in
spring in the Tweed, I caught v»dth the flj^, one fine morn-
ing in March, two fish nearly of the same length : one was
a male of the last season that had lost its milt ; the other
a female fresh from the sea. They were so unlike, that
they did not appear of the same species : the spent or
kipper salmon was long and lean, showing an immense
head, spotted all over with black and brown spots, and
the belly almost black ; the other bright and silvery,
without spots, and the head small. Even the pectoral
and anal fins had more spines in the newly run fish,
some of the smaller ones having been probably rubbed
off in spawning by the other. I would not for some time,
till assured by an experienced fisherman, believe, that
the spent fish was a salmon ; and when their flesh was
compared on the table, one was white^ flabby, and bad,
and without curd ; the other of the brightest pink, and
full of dense curd. Then, though of the same length,
one weighed only 4 lbs., the other 9^ lbs. When it is

SALMON FISHING. 89

recollected that different salmon and sea-trout spawn at
different times in the same river, and that fish of the
same year, being born at different seasons, from Christ-
mas to Lady-day, — and having migrated to the sea in
spring — run up the rivers of all sizes in summer and
autumn — the young salmon from 2 to 10 lbs. in
weight, the young sea-trout from |- to 3 lbs. in weight
— it is not difficult to account for the variety of names
given by casual observers to individuals of these two
species. But I must not forget my promise of sending
a fish to the Highlander, with whose sport we have
interfered. There is a good salmon, which shall be
taken to him immediately, and for which I shall pay thr
tacksman his usual price of 6d. per pound, f""^ ' "" -*~*-^

P.S.IIBRAHY^

1)IST.N9 5.

FIFTH DAY

HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHEB

kBROOKLYN

— PHYSl\'tT^<.

Morning.

Hal. — Well, is your tackle all ready ? It is a fine
fresh and cloudy morning, with a gentle breeze — a day
made for salmon fishing.

[ T]iey proceed to the river, ~\

Hal. — Now, my friends, I give up the two best pools
to you till one o'clock ; and I shall amuse m^^self above
and below — probably with trout fishing. As there is a
promise of a mixed day, with — what is rare in this
country — a good deal of sunshine, I will examine your
flies a little, and point out those I think likely to be
useful ; or rather, I will show you my flies, and, as vou
all have duplicates of them, you can each select the fly

90 SALMONIA.

which I point out, and place it in a part of the book
where it ma}^ easily be found. First : when the cloud
is on, I advise the use of one of these three golden
twisted flies, with silk bodies, orange, red and pale blue,
with red, orange, and gray hackle, golden pheasant's
hackle for tail, and kingfisher's blue, and golden phea-
sant's brown hackle under the wing; beginning with
the brightest fly, and changing to the darker one.
Should the clouds disappear, and it become bright,
change your flies for darker ones, of which I will point
out three : — a fly with a brown body and a red cock's
hackle, one with a dun body and black hackle and light
wing, and one with a black body, a hackle of the same
colour, and a brown mallard's wino-. All these flies
have, you see, silver twist round their bodies, and all
kingfisher's feather under the wing, and golden phea-
sant's feather for the tail. For the size of your flies, I
recommend the medium size, as the water is small to-day;
but try all sizes, from the butterfly size, of a hook of
half an inch in width, to one of a quarter. Now Phy-
sicus, cast your orange fly into that rapid at the top of
the pool ; I saw a large fish run there this moment. You
fish well, were common trout your object ; but, in
salmon fishing, you must alter your manner of moving
the fly. It must not float quietly down the water ; you
must allow it to sink a little, and then pull it back by a
gentle jerk — not raising it out of the water, — and then
let it sink again, till it has been shown in motion, a
little below the surface, in every part of your cast. That
is right, — he has risen.

Phys. — I hold him. He is a noble fish !

Hal. — He is a large grilse, I see by his play ; or a
young salmon of the earliest born this spring. Hold
him tight ; he will fight hard.

SALMON FISHING. 91

Phys. — There ! he springs out of the water ! Once,
twice, thrice, four times ! He is a merry one !

Hal. — He runs against the stream, and will soon be
tired, — but do not hurry him. Pull hard now, to pre-
vent him from running round that stone. He comes in.
I will gaff him for you. I have him ! A goodly fish of
this tide. But see, Poietes has a larger fish at the bot-
tom of the great pool, and is carried down by him
almost to the sea.

PoiET. — I cannot hold him ! He has run out all my
line.

Hal. — I see him : he is hooked foul, and I fear we
shall never recover him, for he is going out to sea.
Give me the rod, — I will try and turn him ; and do you
run down to the entrance of the pool, and throw stones,
to make him, if possible, run back. Ay ! that stone
has done good service ; he is now running up into the
pool again. Now call the fisherman, and tell him to
bring a long pole, to keep him if possible, from the sea.
You have a good assistant, and I will leave you, for tiring
this fish will be at least a work of two hours. He is not
much less than 20 lbs. and is hooked under the gills, so
that you cannot suffocate him by a straight line. I
wish you good fortune ; but should he turn sulky, you
must not allow him to rest, but make the fisherman
move him with the pole again; your chance of killing
him depends upon his being kept incessantly in action,
so that he may exhaust himself by exercise. I shall go
and catch you some river trout for your dinner ; — but I
am glad to see, before I take my leave of you, that
Ornither has likewise hold of a fish, — and, from his
activity, a lusty sea-trout.

[^He goes, and returns in the afternoon,~\

92 SALMONIA.

Hal. — Well, Poietes, I hope to see your fish of 20 lbs.

PoiET. — Alas ! he broke me, — turned sulky, and
went to the bottom ; and when he was roused again, my
line came back without the flv ; so that I conclude he
has cut my links by rubbing them against some sharp
stone. But I have caught two grilses and a sea-trout
since, and lost two others, salmons or grilses, that fairly
got the hooks out of their mouths.

Hal. — And, Ornither, what have you done ? Well,
I see, — a salmon, a grilse, and a sea-trout. And, Phy-
sicus ?

Phys. — I have lost three fish ; one of which broke
me, at the top of the pool, by running amongst the
rocks ; and I have only one small sea-trout.

Hal. — Your fortune will come another day. Why,
you have not a single crimped fish for dinner, and it is
now nearly two o'clock ; and you have been catching for
the picklers, for those fish may all goto the boiling-house.
I must again be your purveyor. Can you point out to
me any part of this pool where you have not fished ?

All.— No.

Hal. — Then I have little chance.

Phys. — O yes ! you have a charm for catching fish.

Hal. — Let me know what flies you have tried, and I
may perhaps tell you if I have a chance. With my
small bright humming bird, as you call it, I will make
an essay.

PoiET. — But this fishery is really very limited ; and
two pools for four persons a small allowance.

Hal. — If you could have seen this river twenty years
ago, when the cruives were a mile higher up, then you
might have enjoyed fishing. There were eight or ten
pools, of the finest character possible for angling, where
a fisherman of my acquaintance has hooked thirty fish

ENGLISH RIVERS. 93

in a morning. The river was then perfect, and it might
easily be brought again into the same state ; but even as
it is now, with this single good pool and this second
tolerable one, I know no place where I could, in the
summer months, be so secure of sport as here — certainly
no where in Great Britain.

PoiET. — I have often heard the Tay and the Tweed
vaunted as salmon rivers.

Hal. — They were good salmon rivers, and are still
very good, as far as the profit of the proprietor is con-
cerned : but, for angling, they are very much deterio-
rated. The net fishing, which is constantly going on,
except on Sundays and in close time, suffers very few fish
to escape ; and a Sunday's flood offers the sole chance
of a good day's sport, and this only in particular parts
of these rivers. I remember the Tweed and the Tay in
a far better state. The Tweed, in the late Lord Somer-
ville's time, always contained taking-fish after every flood
in the summer. In the Tay, only ten years ago, at
Mickleure, I was myself one of two anglers who took
eight fine fish, — three of them large salmon, — in a short
morning's fishing : but now, except in spring fishing,
when the fish are little worth taking, there is no cer-
tainty of sport in these rivers ; and one, two, or three
fish (which last is of rare occurrence), arc all even an
experienced angler can hope to take in a day's skilful
and constant angling.

PoiET. — You have fished in most of the salmon rivers
of the north of Europe, — give us some idea of the kind
of sport they afford.

Hal. — I have fished in some, but perhaps not in the
best; for this it is necessary to go into barbarous countries
— Lapland, or the extreme north of Norway; and I
have generally loved too much the comforts of life to

94 SALMONIA.

make any greater sacrifices than such as are made in our
present expedition, I have heard the river at Drontheim
boasted of as an excellent salmon river, and I know two
worthy anglers who have tried it; but I do not think
they took more fish in a day than I have sometimes taken
in Scotland and Ireland. All the Norwegian rivers that I
tried (and they were in the south of Norway) contained
salmon. I fished in the Glommen, one of the largest
rivers in Europe ; in the Mandals, which appeared to
me the best fitted for taking salmon ; the Arrendal and
the Torrisdale ; — but, though I saw salmon rise in all
these rivers, I never took a fish larger thana sea-trout ;
of these I always caught many — and even in the ^ords, or
small inland salt-water bays ; but I think never any one
more than a pound in weight. It is true, I was in Nor-
way in the beginning of July, in exceedingly bright
weather, and when there w^as no night ; for even at
twelve o'clock the sky was so bright, that I read
the smallest print in the columns of a newspaper. I
was in Sweden later — in August : I fished in the mag-
nificent Gotha, below that grand fall Trolhetta, which
to see is worth a voyage from England ; but I never
raised there any fish worth taking: yet a gentleman
from Gothenburg told me he had formerly taken large
trout there. I caught, in this noble stream, a little
trout about as long as my hand ; and the only fish
I got to eat at Trolhetta was bream. The Falkenstein,
a darker water, very like a second-rate Scotch river —
say the Don — abounds in salmon ; and there I had a
very good day's fishing. I took six fish, which gave me
great sport ; they were grilses, under 6 lbs. ; but I lost a
salmon, which I think was above 10 lbs. This river, I
conceive, must be, generally, excellent ; it is not covered
with saw^-mills, like most of the Norwegian rivers ; its

CONTINENTAL RIVERS. 95

colour is good, and it is not so clear as the rivers of the
south of Norway.

Phys. — Do you think the saw-mills hurt the fishing ?

Hal. — I do not doubt it. The immense quantity of
sawdust which floats in the water, and which forms
almost hills along the banks, must be poisonous to the
fish by sometimes choking their gills, and interfering
wdth their respiration. I have never fished for salmon
in Germany. The Elbe and the Weser, when I have
seen them, were too foul for fly-fishing; and in the
Rhine, in Switzerland, and its tributary streams, I have
never seen a salmon rise. I once hooked a fish, under
the fall at SchafFhausen, which in my youthful araour I
thought was a salmon, but it turned out to be an im-
mense chub — a villanous and provoking substitute.
And our islands, as far as I know, may claim the supe-
riority over all other lands for this species of amuse-
ment. In England it is, however, a little difficult to get
a day's salmon fishing. The best river I know of is
the Derwent, that flows from the beautiful lake of
Keswick ; and I caught once, in October, a very
large salmon there, and raised another ; but it is only
late in the autumn that there is any chance of sport,
though I have heard the spring salmon fishing boasted
of. At Whitw^ell in the Ilodder, I have heard of salmon
and sea-trout being taken — but I have never fished in
that river. The late Lord Bolingbroke caught many
salmon at Christchurch ; but a fish a week is as much as
can be expected in that beautiful, but scantily stocked,
river. Small salmon and sea- trout, or sewe?is, as they
are called in the country, may be caught, after the au-
tumnal floods, I believe, in most of the considerable Welsh,
Devonshire, and Cornish streams; but I have fished in
many of them without success. The Conway I may

96 SALMONIA.

except : this river, in the end of October, will some-
times, after a great flood, furnish a good day's sport, and,
if the net fishers could be set aside, several days' sport.
I have known two salmon, one above 20 lbs., taken here
in a day ; and I have taken myself fine sea-trout, or
sewens, — which, in an autumnal flood in Wales, are
found in most of the streams near the sea.

PoiET. — I have heard a Northumberland man boast
of the rivers of that county, as affording good salmon
fishing.

Hal. — I have no doubt that salmon are sometimes
caught in the Tyne, the Coquet, and the Till; but, in
the present state of these rivers, this is a rare occurrence.
I was once, for a week, on a good run of the North
Tyne ; I fished sometimes, but I never saw a salmon
rise ; and the only place in this river, w^here, from my
own knowledge, I can assert salmon have been caught
with the artificial fly, w^as at Mounsey, very high up the
river. There, in 1820, two grilses vrere caught, in the
end of August. I have recorded this, as a sort of his-
torical occurrence ; and I dare say, most of the counties
of England, in which there are salmon rivers, would,
upon a minute inquiry, furnish such instances, if they
contained salmon fishers. Yorkshire, Devonshire, and
Cornwall, with the sea on both sides, ought to furnish
a greater number.

Phys. — Give us some little account of the Scotch and
Irish rivers.

Hal. — I fear I shall tire you, by attempting any de-
tails on this subject ; for they are so many, that I ought
to take a map in my hands ; but I will say a few words
on those in which I have had good sport. First, the
Tweed : — of this, as you will understand from what I
mentioned before, I fear I must now say "/z^zV." Yet

SCOTCH RIVERS.— TWEED. 97

Still, for spring salmon fishing, it must be a good river.
The last great sport I had in that river, was in 1817, in
the beginning of April. I caught, in two or three
hours, at Merton, four or five large salmon, and as many
in the evening at Kelso ; and one of them weighed
25 lbs. But this kind of fishing cannot be compared
to the summer fishing: the fish play with much less
energy, and in general are in bad season ; and the fly
used for fishing, is almost like a bird — four or five times
larger than the summer fly — and the coarsest tackle
may be employed. I have heard that Lord Home has
sometimes, taken thirty fish in a day, in spring fishing.
About, and above Melrose, I have taken, in a morning
in July, two or three grilses; and in September, the
same number. I have known eighteen taken earlier, by
an excellent salmon fisher, at Merton ; and the late
Lord Somerville often took six or seven fish in a day's
angling. The same ''fuif^ I must apply to most of the
Scotch rivers. Of the Tay, I have already spoken. In
the Dee, I have never caught salmon, though I have
fished in two parts of it, but it was in bad seasons. Li
the Don, I have seen salmon rise, and hooked one ; but
never killed a fish. In the Spey I enjoyed one of the
best days' sport (perhaps the very best) I ever had in
my life : it was in the beginning of September, in close
time ; the water was low ; and as net fishing had been
given over for some days, the lower pools were full of
fish. By a privilege, which I owed to the late Duke of
Gordon, I fished at this forbidden time, and hooked
twelve or thirteen fish in one day. One was above
30 lbs. ; but it broke me, by the derangement of my reel
I landed seven or eight — one above 20 lbs., which gave
me great play in the rapids above the bridge. I returned
to the same spot in 1813, the year after : the river was

VOL. IX. F

98 SALMONIA.

in excellent order, and it was the same time of the year,
but just after a flood, — I caught nothing ; the fish had
all run up the river ; the pools, where I had such sport
the year before, were empty. I have fished there since,
w4th alike result ; but this was before the 12th of August,
the close day. In the Sutherland and Caithness rivers,
many salmon, I have no doubt, may still be caught.
The Brora, Sutherland, in 1813 and 1814, was an ad-
mirable river : I have often rode from the mansion of
the princely and hospitable lord and lady of that county,
after breakfast, and returned at two or three o'clock,
having taken from three to eight salmon — several times
eight. There were five pools below the weirs of the
Brora, which always contained fish ; and at the top of
one pool, which, from its size was almost inexhaustible,
I have taken three or four salmon the same day.
Another pool, nearer the sea, was almost equal to it ;
and at that time I should have placed the Brora above
the Ewe for certainty of sport. When I fished there
last, in 1817, the case was altered, and I caught only
two or three fish in the very places where I had six
years before been so successful. In the Helmsdale there
are some good pools ; and I have caught fine fish there
when the river has been high. I have fished in the river
at Thurso, but without success ; it was always foul when
I made my attempt. I have heard of a good salmon
river in Lord Reay's country, the Laxford : its name, of
Norwegian origin, would seem to be characteristic*
Along the coast of Scotland most of the streams, if taken
at the right time, afford sport. In this county the
Beauly is a good river; and I have caught salmon in
that very beautiful spot below the falls of Kilmornack.
The Ness, at Inverness, and the Aw^e and Lochy, I have

* Lax is the Teutonic word for salmon.

IRISH RIVERS. 99

fished in, but without success. I may say the same of
the Ayr, and of the rivers which empty themselves into
the Solway Frith. A httle preserved stream, at Ard-
gowan, w^as formerly excellent, after a flood in Sep-
tember, for sea- trout; and later for salmon ; I have had
good sport there; and some of my friends have had
better.

In Ireland there are some excellent rivers ; and, what
you will hardly believe possible, comparing the cha-
racters of the tw^o nations, some of them are taken better
care of than the Scotch rivers ; which arises a good deal
from the influence of the Catholic priests, when they
are concerned in the interests of the proprietors, on the
Catholic peasantry. I should place the Erne, at Bally-
shannon, as now the first river for salmon fishing from
the banks wdth a rod, in the British dominions ; and the
excellent proprietor of it, Dr. Shiel, is liberal and cour-
teous to all gentlemen fly-fishers. The Moy, at Bal-
lina, is likewise an admirable salmon river ; and sport, I
believe, may almost always be secured there in every
state of the waters ; but the best fishing can only be
^ commanded by the use of a boat. I have taken in the
Erne two or three large salmon in the morning ; and in
the Moy, three or four grilses, or, as they are called in
Ireland, grauls : and this was in a very bad season for
salmon fishing. The Bann, near Coleraine, abounds in
salmon ; but, in this river, except in close time, when it
is unlawful to fish there, there are few good casts. In
the Bush, a small river about seven miles to the east of
the Bann, there is admirable salmon fishing, alwa3^s after
great floods ; but in fine and dry weather, it is of little
use to try. I have hooked twenty fish in a day, after
the first August floods, in this river ; and, should sport
fail, the celebrated Giant's Causeway is within a mile of

F 2

100 SALMONIA.

its mouth, and furnishes to the lovers of natural beauty,
or of geological research, almost inexhaustible sources
of interest. The Blackwater, at Lismore, is a very good
salmon river : and the Shannon, above Limerick, and at
Castle Connel, whenever the water is tolerably high,
offers many good casts to the fly-fisher ; but they can
only be comrnanded by boats. But there is no consi-
derable river along the northern or western coast, — with
the exception of the Avoca, which has been spoiled by
the copper mines, — that does not afford salmon ; and if
taken at the proper time, offer sport to the salmon fisher.
But it is time for us to return to our inn.

THE INN.

PoiET. — Should it be a fine day to-morrow, I think
we shall have good sport: the high tide will bring up
fish, and the rain and wind of yesterday will have en-
larged the river.

Hal. — To-morrow we must not fish: it is the Lord's
day, and a day of rest. It ought, likewise, to be a day
of worship and thanksgiving to the Great Cause of all
the benefits and blessings we enjoy in this life, for which
we can never sufficiently express our gratitude.

PoiET. — I cannot see what harm there can be in pur-
suing an amusement on a Sunday, which you yourself
have called innocent, and which is apostolic : nor do I
know a more appropriate way of returning thanks to
the Almighty Cause of all being, than in examining
and wondering at his works in that great temple of
nature, whose canop}' is the sky : and where all the
beings and elements around us are^ as it were, proclaim-
ing the power and wisdom of Deity.

Hal. — I cannot see how the exercise of fishing can
add to your devotional feelings; but, independent of

THE SABBATH DAY. 101

this, you employ a servant to carry your net and gafF, —
and he, at least, has a right to rest on this one day.
But even if you could perfectly satisfy yourself as to the
abstracted correctness of the practice, the habits of the
country in which we now are, form an insurmountable
obstacle to the pursuit of the amusement : by indulging
in it, you would excite the indignation of the Highland
peasants, and might perhaps expiate the offence, by a
compulsory ablution in the river.

PoiET. — I give up the point : I make it a rule never
to shock the prejudices of any person, even when they
appear to me ridiculous ; and I shall still less do so in a
case where your authority is against me ; and I have no
taste for undergoing persecution, when the cause is a
better one. I now remember that I have often heard of
the extreme severity with which the Sabbath discipline
is kept in Scotland. Can you give us the reason of
this?

Hal. — I am not sufficiently read in the Church His-
tory of Scotland, to give the cause historically ; but I
think it can hardly be doubted, that it is connected
with the intense feelings of the early Covenanters, and
their hatred with respect to all the forms and institutes
of the Church of Rome, the ritual of which makes the
Sunday more a day of innocent recreation, than severe
discipline.

Phys. — Yet the disciples of Calvin at Geneva, who,
I suppose, must have hated the Pope, as much as their
brethren of Scotland, do not so rigidly observe the Sun-
day ; and I remember having been invited by a very re-
ligious and respectable Genevese to a shooting party on
that day.

Hal. — I think climate, and the imitative nature of
man, modify this cause abroad. Geneva is a little state.

102 SALMONTA.

in a brighter climate than Scotland, almost surrounded
by Catholics; and the habits of the French and Sa-
voyards must influence the people. The Scotch^ with
more severity and simplicity of manners, have no such
examples of bad neighbours, for the people of the north
of England keep the Sunday much in the same way.

PoiET. — Nay, Halieus, call them not bad neighbours ;
recollect my creed, and respect at least, w'hat, if error, was
the error of the western Christian world for 1000 years.
The rigid observance of the seventh day, appears to me
rather a part of the Mosaic, than of the Christian dis-
pensation. The Protestants of this country consider
the Catholics bigots, because they enjoin to themselves,
and perform certain penances, for their sins ; and surely
the Catholics may see a little still resembling that spirit,
in the interference of the Scotch in innocent amuse-
ments, on a day celebrated as a festive day, that on
which our Saviour rose to immortal life, and secured the
everlasting hopes of the Christian. I see no reason w^hy
this day should not be celebrated wdth singing, dancing,
and triumphal processions, and all innocent signs of
gladness and joy. I see no reason why it should be
given up to severe and solitary prayers, or to solemn
and dull walks ; or why, as in Scotland, whistling even
should be considered as a crime on Sunday ; and hum-
ming a tune, however sacred, out of doors, as a reason
for violent anger and persecution.

Orn. — I agree with Poietes, in his views of the sub-
ject. I have suffered from the peculiar habits of the
Scotch church, and therefore may complain. Once in
the north of Ireland, when a very young man, I ventured
after the time of divine service to put together my rods,
as I had been used to do in the Catholic districts of
Ireland, and fish for sea-trout in the river at Rath-

THE SABBATH DAY. 103

melton, in pure innocence of heart, unconscious of
wrong, when I found a crowd collect round me — at first
I thought from mere curiosity, but I soon discovered I
was mistaken ; anger w^as their motive, and vengeance
their object. A man soon came up exceedingly drunk,
and began to abuse me by various indecent terms : such
as a Sabbath-breaking Papist, &c. It was in vain I as-
sured him I was no Papist, and no intentional Sabbath
breaker ; he seized my rod and carried it off with impre-
cations ; and it was only with great difficulty that I re-
covered my property. Another time I was walking on
Arthur's Seat, with some of the most distinguished pro-
fessors of Edinburgh attached to the geological opinions
of the late Dr. Hutton ; a discussion took place upon the
phenomena presented by the rocks under our feet, and,
to exemplify a principle. Professor Playfair broke some
stones, in which I assisted the venerable and amiable
philosopher. We had hardly examined the fragments,
when a man from a crowd, who had been assisting at a
field preaching, came up to us and warned us off, saying,
" Ye think ye are only stane breakers ; but I ken ye are
Sabbath breakers, and ve deserve to be staned with the
stanes ye are breaking !"

Hal. — Zeal of ever}^ kind is sometimes troublesome,
yet I generally suspect the persons, who are very to-
lerant, of scepticism. Those who firmly believe that a
particular plan of conduct is essential to the eternal wel-
fare of man, may be pardoned if they show even anger,
when this conduct is not pursued. The severe observ-
ance of the Sabbath, is connected with the vital creed of
these rigid Presbyterians ; it is not, therefore, extraor-
dinary, that they should enforce it, even with a perse-
verance that goes beyond the bounds of good manners
and courtesy. They may quote the example of our

104 SALMONIA.

Saviour, who expelled the traders from the temple, even
bj violence.

Phys. — I envy no quality of the mind or intellect in
others ; be it genius, power, wit or fancy : but if I could
choose what would be most delightful, and I believe
most useful to me, I should prefer a firm religious belief
to every other blessing ; for it makes life a discipline of
goodness; creates new hopes, when all earthly hopes
vanish ; and throws over the decay, the destruction of
existence, the most gorgeous of all lights ; aw^akens life,
even in death, — and from corruption and decay calls up
beauty and divinity ; makes an instrument of torture
and of shame, the ladder of ascent to paradise; and, far
above all combinations of earthly hopes, calls up the
most delightful visions of palms and amaranths, the
gardens of the blest, the security of everlasting joys,
where the sensualist and the sceptic view only gloom,
decay, annihilation, and despair !

PoiET. — You transiently referred, Haleius, yesterday,
to that instinct of salmons which induces them to run
up rivers from the sea on the approach of rain. You
have had so many opportunities of attending to the
instincts of the inferior animals, that I should be very
glad to hear your opinion on that very curious subject,
the nature and development of instincts in general.

Hal. — You must remember, that, in the conversation
to which you allude, I avoided even to pretend to define
the nature of instinct ; but I shall willingly discuss the
subject ; and I expect from yourself, Ornither and
Physicus, more light thrown upon it than I can hope to
bestow.

Orn. — I believe we have each a peculiar view on this
matter. In discussion we may enlighten and correct
each other. For myself, I consider instincts merely as

INSTINCTS. 105

results of organization, a part of the machinery of orga-
nized forms. Man is so constituted, that his muscles
acquire their power by habit ; their motions are at first
automatic, and become voluntary by associations, so
that a child must learn to walk as he learns to swim or
write ; but in the colt or chicken, the limbs are formed
with the powers of motion ; and these animals walk as
soon as they have quitted the womb or the egg.

Phys. — I believe it possible that they may have ac-
quired these powers of motion in the embryo state ; and
I think I have observed, that birds learn to fly, and ac-
quire the use of their wings, by continued efforts, in the
same manner as a child does that of his limbs.

Orn. — I cannot agree with you : the legs of the
foetus are folded up in the womb of the mare ; and
neither the colt nor the chicken can ever have performed,
in the embryo state, any motions of their legs similar to
those which they have perfectly at tlieir command when
born. Young birds cannot fly as soon as they are
hatched, because they have no wing feathers; but as
soon as these are developed, and even before they are
perfectly strong, they use their wings, fly, and quit their
nests without any education from their parents. Com-
pare a young quail, when a few days old, with a child of
as many months : he flies, runs, seeks his food, avoids
danger, and obeys the call of his mother ; whilst a child
is perfectly helpless, and can perform few voluntary mo-
tions, has barely learnt to grasp, and can neither stand
nor walk. But to see the most perfect instance of in-
stinct, as contrasted with acquired knowledge, look at
common domestic poultry, as soon as they are excluded
from the egg : they run round their mother, nestle in
her feathers, and obey her call, without education : she
leads them to some spot where there is soft earth or

F 5

106 SALMONIA.

dung, and instantly begins scratching with her feet ; the
chickens watch her motions with the utmost attention ;
if an earthworm or larva is turned up, they instantly
seize and devour it, but they avoid eating sticks, grass,
or straws ; and though the hen shows them the example
of picking up grain, they do not imitate her in this
respect, but for some days prefer ants, or the larvae of
ants to a barley corn. They may have heard the cluck
of their mother in the egg, and having felt the warmth
of her feathers agreeable, you may consider, Physicus,
their collecting under her wings, and obeying her call,
as an acquired habit. But I will mention another cir-
cumstance, where habit or education is entirely out of
the question. Does the mother see the shadow of a
kite on the ground, or hear his scream in the air, she
instantly utters a shrill suppressed cry ; the chickens,
though born that day, and searching round her with glee
and animation for the food which her feet were pro-
viding for them, instantly appear as if thunderstruck ;
those close to her crouch down and hide themselves in
the straw ; those further off, without moving from the
place, remain prostrate ; the hen looks upward with a
watchful eye ; nor do they resume their feeding till
they have been called again by the cluck of their mother,
and warned that the danger is over.

Phys. — I certainly cannot explain the acquaintance
of the little animals with the note of alarm of the mother,
except upon the principle you have adopted ; and I
fairly own, that their selection of animal food appears
likewise instinctive ; yet it is possible, that this selection
may depend upon some analogy between the smell
of these animal matters and the yolk, which was for a
long time their food in the egg.

Orn. — I find I must multiply examples. Examine

INSTINCTS. 107

young ducks which have been hatched under a hen ;
they no sooner quit the shell, than they fly to their
natural element, the water, in spite of the great anxiety
and terror of their foster-parent, who in vain repeats
that sound to which her natural children are so obe-
dient. Being in the water they seize insects of every
kind, which they can only know from their instincts to
be good for food ; and when they are hatched in the
May-fly season, they pursue these large ephemerae with
the greatest avidity, and make them their favourite food.
It is impossible I think, to explain these facts, except by
supposing, that they depend upon feelings or desires in
the animals developed with their organs, which are not ac-
quired, and which are absolutely instinctive. I will men-
tion another instance. A friend of mine was travelling in
the interior of Ceylon ; on the banks of a lake he saw
some fragments of the shells of eggs of the alligator, and
heard a noise from beneath the sand; his curiosity was ex-
cited and he was induced to search below the surface from
whence the sound proceeded ; he found some young alli-
gators and several eggs which were still entire : he broke
the shell of one of them, the young animal which came
forth, when touched with a stick assumed a threatening
attitude, and bit at the stick with violence ; and it made
directly for the water, which (though born by the in-
fluence of the sunbeams on the burning sand) it seemed
to know was its natural and hereditary domain. Here
is an animal which, deserted by its parents, and entirely
submitted to the mercy of nature and the elements, must
die if it had to acquire its knowledge ; but all its powers
are given, all its wants supplied ; and even its means of
offence and defence implanted by strong and perfect
instincts. I will mention one fact more. Swallows,
quails, and many other birds, migrate in large flocks

108 SALMONIA.

when their usual food becomes scarce ; and in these
cases it may be said (I anticipate a remark of Physicus),
that the phenomenon depends upon imitation, and that
the young birds follow the old ones who have before
made the same flight. But I will select the young
cuckoo for an unexceptionable example of the instinc-
tive nature of this quality. He is produced from an
egg deposited by his mother in the nest of another bird,
generall}^ the hedge sparrow, lie destroys all the other
young ones hatched in the same nest, and is supplied
with food by his foster-parent, after he has deprived her
of all her natural offspring. Quite solitary, he is no
sooner able to fly than he quits the country of his
birth, and finds his way, with no other guide than his
instinct, to a land wdiere his parents had gone many
weeks before him ; and he is not pressed to make this
migration by want of food, for the insects and grains on
which he feeds are still abundant. The whole histor}^ of
the origin, education, and migration of this singular
animal, is a history of a succession of instincts, the more
remarkable, because in many respects contrary to the
usual order of nature.

Phys. — I have been accustomed to refer many of the
supposed instincts of animals, such as migrations, build-
ing nests, and selection of food, to imitation ; but, I
confess, I cannot explain the last fact you have brought
forward on this principle. Pray, Ornither, let me state
your view, as I understand it, that we may not differ
as to the meaning of language. I conclude you adopt
Plartley's view of association, that the motions of the
muscles in man are first automatic, and become volun-
tary by association ; and that reason is the application of
voluntary motions for a particular end. For instance : a
child is not afraid of fire, but, bringing its hand near the

INSTINCTS. 109

fire, it is burnt, and the convulsion of the muscles pro-
duced by the pain ends in removing the hand from the
source of pain. These motions by association are made
voluntary ; and after this experiment he avoids the fire
by reason, and takes care always to perform those mo-
tions which remove his limbs from this destructive agent.
But in contrasting instinct with this slow process, you
would say, most animals, without having felt the effects
of fire, have an innate dread of it ; and in the same way,
without having been taught, or experienced pleasure
or pain from the object, young ducks seek the water,
young chickens avoid it : their organs have a fitness or
unfitness for certain functions, and they use them for
these functions without education. In short, the in-
stinctive application of the organ is independent of ex-
perience, and forms part of a train of pure sensations.

Orn. — I have no objection to the statement you
make of my view of the subject; but I certainly should
give to it a little more refinement and generalit}^ In all
the results of reason, ideas are concerned, but never in
those of instinct. Without memory there can be no
reason ; but in instinct nothing can be traced but
pure sensation.

PoiET. — Though in the animal world no ideas seem
connected with instincts, yet they are all intended for
specific and intelligent ends. Thus the swallow travels
to a country where flies are found; the salmon migrates
from the sea to the sources of fresh rivers, where its
eggs may receive a supply of aerated water, and without
this migration the race would be extinct : and in this
way all the instincts of animals may be referred to in-
telligence, which, though not belonging to the animal,
must be attributed to the Divine Mind. Is it not then
reasonable to refer instinct to the immediate impulse

110 SALMONIA.

of the Author of Nature upon his creatures ? His
omnipresence and omnipotence cannot be doubted, and
to the infinite mind the past, the present, and the future
are alike; and creative and conservative power must
equally belong to it.

Hal. — That instincts depend upon impulses imme-
diately derived from the Deity is an opinion which,
though it perhaps cannot be confuted, yet does not please
me so much as to believe them dependent upon the for-
mation of organs, and the result of the general laws which
govern the system of the universe ; and it is in favour of
this opinion that they are susceptible of modifications.
Thus, in domesticated animals they are always changed ;
the turkey and the duck lose their habits of constructing
nests, and the goose does not migrate. In supposing
them the result of organization and hereditary, they
might be expected to be changed by circumstances, as
they are actually found to be. Without referring the
instincts of animals to the immediate impulse of the
Deity, they appear to me to offer the most irresistible
and convincing argument that can be brought forward
against atheism. They demonstrate combinations, the
result of the most refined intelligence, which can only
be considered as infinite. Take any one of the lowest
class of animals, insects for instance, not only is
their organization fitted to all their wants ; but their
association in societ}^ is provided for, and the laws of a
perfect social community, as it were, are adopted by
beings, that we are sure cannot reason. In the hive
bee, for instance, the instinct of the workers leads them
to adopt and obey a queen ; and if she is taken aw^ay
from them, or dies, they have the power of raising
another from offspring in the cells, by an almost
miraculous process : they w^ork under her government

INSTINCTS. ] 1 1

for a common object ; they allow males only to exist
for a specific purpose and limited time ; and under the
government of females, who preserve the society, they
send forth swarms, which readily place themselves under
the protection of man. In the geometrical construction
of their cells, the secretion of wax from their bodies, the
collecting their food, and the care of the brood, there is
a series of results which it requires a strong reason to
follow, and which are the consequences of invariable in-
stincts. Bees, since they have been noticed by natural-
ists, have the same habits, and, as it is probable that there
have been many thousand of generations since the crea-
tion, it is evident that the instincts of the first bees have
been hereditary and invariable in their offspring ; and it
cannot be doubted, that they do now, as they did four
thousand years ago, make some cells in combs larger
than others for the purpose of containing the eggs and
future grubs of drones, that are to be produced by a
grub, which they are educating for a queen bee ; and
that these cells are connected with the common cells
by a series, in which the most exact geometrical
laws of transition are observed. An eminent phi-
losopher has deduced an argument in favour of the ex-
istence of Deity from the analogy of the universe to
a piece of mechanism, which could only be the work
of an intelligent mind ; but there is this difference :
in all the productions of nature, the principle, not only
of perfection, but likewise of conservation, is found,
marking a species of intelligence and power which can
be compared to nothing human. The first created
swarm of bees contained beings provided with all the
instincts necessary for the perpetual continuance of the
species ; and some of these instincts can scarcely be
understood by man, requiring the most profound geo-

112 SALMONIA.

metrical knowledge, even to calculate their results ; and
other instincts involve what in human society w^ould be
the most singular state of policy, combining contrasted
moral causes and contradictory interests. It is impos-
sible not to be lost in awe at the contemplation of this
chain of facts ; the human mind cannot fail to acknow-
ledge in them the strongest proofs of their being pro-
duced by infinite wisdom and unbounded power; and the
devout philosopher can scarcely avoid considering with
respect a little insect endow^ed with faculties producing
combinations, which human reason vainly attempts to
imitate, and can scarcely understand.

Phys. — I agree with you, that if instinct be supposed
the result of organization, and that the first animal
types w^ere so created as to transmit their instincts in-
variably, generation after generation, it does offer a most
triumphant and incontrovertible argument for the ex-
istence of an all-powerful intelligent Cause. — Even in
the instance which led to this conversation, the instinct
which carries salmon from the sea to the sources of
rivers, it is only lately philosophers have discovered, that
the eggs cannot produce young fishes independent of
the influence of air ; and thus an animal goes many
hundred miles under the direction of an instinct, the use
of which human reason has at length developed, and man
is supplied wdth an abundant food by the result of a com-
bination, in consequence of which a species is preserved.

PoTET. — I do not understand, Haleius, your objec-
tions to the view I have adopted, ' which is sanctioned
by the authority of a good ethic philosopher, Addison.
AUowdng the omnipresence and constant power of
Deity, I do not see how you can avoid admitting his ac-
tual interference in all the phenomena of living nature.

Hal. — As I said before, I cannot confute your view ;

INSTINCTS. 113

but, upon this principle, gravitation and the motion of
the planets round the sun, and all the other physical
phenomena of the universe, would be owing to the im-
mediate action of the Divinity. I prefer the view, which
refers them to motion and properties, the results of
general laws impressed on matter by Omnipotence.
This view is, I think simpler ; but it is difficult to form
any distinct opinion on so high and incomprehensible
a subject, on which, perhaps, after all, it is wiser to con-
fess our entire ignorance, and to bow down in humble
adoration to the one incomprehensible Cause of all
being.

PoiET. — I agree with you m your last sentence, but I
still adhere to my own view, and I hope you will not
object to a favourite opinion of mine, that instincts are
to animals what revelation is to man, intended to supply
wants in their physical constitution, which in man are pro-
vided for by reason ; and that revelation is to him as an
instinct, teaching him what reason cannot — his religious
duties, the undying nature of his intellectual part, and the
relations of his conduct to eternal happiness and misery.

Hal. — "Davus sum, non CEdipus." I will not attempt
to discuss this view of yours, Poietes ; but I think I
may say, that all the instincts of animals seem to be con-
nected with pleasure or utility ; and in man the feeling
of love and the gratifying the tastes which approach
nearest to instincts, are likewise highly delightful, and
perhaps there is no more pleasurable state of the human
mind than when, with intense belief, it looks forward to
another world and to a better state of existence, or is
absorbed in the adoration of the supreme and eternal
Intelligence."^

* As man seems in many instances to have profited by his imitations
of the instincts of animals, as in building, making caves and subaqueous

114: SALMONIA.

SIXTH DAY.
HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICUS.

Morning.

Hal. — Well met, my friends ! It is a fine warm morn-
ing, there is a fresh breeze, the river is in excellent order
for fishing, and I trust our good behaviour yesterday will
insure us sport to-day. There must be a great many
fresh fish in the pool ; and after twenty-four hours' rest,
some of those that were indisposed to take on Saturday
evening, may have acquired appetite. Prepare your
tackle, and begin : but whilst you are preparing, I will
mention a circumstance which every accomplished fly-
fisher ought to know. You changed your flies on Satur-
day with the change of weather, putting the dark flies on
for the bright gleams of the sun, and the gaudy flies when
the dark clouds appeared : now, I will tell you of another
principle, which it is as necessary to know as the change of
flies for change of weather ; I allude to the different kinds
of fly to be used in particular pools, and even in particu-
lar parts of pools. You have fished in this deep pool ;
and if you were to change it for a shallower one, such
as that above, it would be proper to use smaller flies of
the same colour : and in a pool still deeper, larger flies ;
likewise in the rough rapid at the top, a larger fly may
be used than, below at the tail of the water : and in the
Tweed or Tay, I have often changed my fly thrice in
the same pool, and sometimes with success — using three
different flies for the top, middle, and bottom. I re-
constructions, like the beaver; so animals in a state of domestication
3ccm to have made something like an approach towards the imitation
of some of the results of human reason.

FLIES. 115

member, that when I first saw Lord Somerville adopt
this fashion, I thought there was fancy in it ; but ex-
perience soon proved to me how accomplished a salmon
fisher was my excellent and lamented friend, and I
adopted the lesson he taught me, and with good results,
in all bright waters.

PoiET. — I will try the correctness of your principle.
Look at the fly now on my line ; w^here would you
recommend me to cast it ?

Hal. — It is a large gaudy fly, and is fit for no part of
this pool, except the extremely rough head of the tor-
rent : there I dare say it w^ill take in this state of the
waters.

PoiET. — Good, I hooked a large fish, but, alas ! he is
off: yet I thought he was fairly caught.

Hal. — The hook, I think, turned round at the mo-
ment you struck, and carried off some scales from the
outside of his mouth.

PoiET. — You are right : see, the scales are on the
hook. I cannot raise another fish : I have tried almost
all over the pool. I thought I saw a fish rise at the tail
of the rapid.

Hal. — You did: he refused the fly. Now put on a
fly one- third of the size, and of the same colour, and I
think you will hook that fish.

PoiET. — I have done so — and he is fast ! and a fine
fish ; I think a salmon.

Hal. — It is a salmon, and one above 10 lbs. Play
him with care, and do not let him run into the rough
part of the stream, where the large stones are.

PoiET. — It is, I think, the most active fish I have yet
played with. See how high he leaps ! He is making for
the sea.

Hal. — Hold him tight, or you will lose him.

116 SALMONIA,

PoiET. — Fear me not. I trust, in spite of his strength,
I shall turn him. You see, I show him the but of the
rod, and his force is counterpoised by a very long lever.

Hal. — You do well. But he has made a violent spring,
and, I fear, is off.

PoiET. — He is ! — but not, I think, by any fault of
mine : he has carried off something.

Hal. — You played that fish so w^ell, that I am angry
at his loss : either the hook, link, or line, failed you.

PoiET. — It is the hook, which you see is broken ; and
not merely at the barb, but likewise in the shank. What
a fool I was ever to use one of these London or Bir-
mingham-made hooks.

Hal. — The thing has happened to me often, I now
never use any hooks for salmon fishing, except those
which I am sure have been made by O'Shaughnessy, of
Limerick ; for even those made in Dublin, though they
seldom break, yet they now and then bend ; and the
English hooks, made of cast-steel, in imitation of Irish
ones, are the worst of all. There is a fly nearly of the
same colour as that which is destroyed ; and I can tell
you, that I saw it made at Limerick by O'Shaughnessy
himself, and tied on one of his ow^n hooks. Should you
catch with it a fish even of 30 lbs., I will answer for its
strength and temper : it will neither break nor bend.

PoiET. — Whilst I am attaching your present, so
kindly made, to my line, pray tell me how^ these hooks
are made ; for I know you interested yourself in this
subject when at Limerick.

Hal. — Most willingly. I have even made a hook,
which, though a little inferior in form, in other respects,
I think, I could boast as equal to the Limerick ones.
The first requisite in hook-making, is to find good mal-
leable iron of the softest and purest kind — such as is

HOOKS. 117

procured from the nails of old horse-shoes. This mast
be converted by cementation with charcoal into good,
soft steel, and that into bars or wires of different thick-
ness for different-sized hooks, and then annealed. For
the larger hooks, the bars must be made in such a form
as to admit of cutting the barbs ; and each piece, which
serves for two hooks, is larger at the ends, so that the
bar appears in the form of a double pointed spear, three,
four, or five inches long: the bars for the finer hooks are
somewhat flattened. The artist works with two files ;
one finer than the other, for giving the point, and po-
lishing the hook, — and he begins by making the barb,
taking care not to cut too deep, and filing on a piece of
hard wood, such as box-wood, with a dent to receive the
■bar, made by the edge of the file. The barb being
made, the shank is thinned and flattened, and the po-
lishing file applied to it : and by a turn of the wrist
round a circular pincers, the necessary degree of curva-
ture is given to it. The hook is then cut from the bar,
heated red-hot, by being kept for a moment in a char-
coal fire ; then plunged, while hot, into cold water ; then
tempered, by being put on iron, that has been heated in
the same fire till it becomes a bright blue, — and, whilst
still hot, it is immersed in candle-grease, where it gains
a black colour ; it is then finished.

Phys. — Nothing seems simpler than this process.
Surely London might furnish manufacturers for so easy
a manipulation ; and I should think one of our friends,
who is so admirable a cutler, might even improve upon
the Irish process; at least the tempering might be more
scientifically arranged; for instance, by the thermo-
meter, and a bath of fusible metal, the temperature at
which steel becomes blue, being 580° Fahr,, might be
constantly preserved.

1 18 SALMONIA.

Hal. — Habit teaches our Irish artists this point with
sufficient precision. We should have such hooks in
England, but the object of the fishing-tackle makers is
to obtain them cheap^ and most of their hooks are made
to sell ; and good hooks cannot be sold but at a good
price.

PoiET. — I have heard formerly a good angler com-
plain that the Limerick hooks were too heavy and
clumsy. He preferred hooks made at Kendal, in Cum-
berland.

Hal. — I saw, twenty years ago, hooks far too heavy
made at Limerick ; but this O'Shaughnessy is, I think, a
better maker than his father was ; and the curve, and
the general form of the hook, is improved. It has now,
I think, nearly the best form of a curve for catching and
holding, the point protruding a little. The Kendal
hook holds well ; but is not so readily fixed by the pull
in the mouth of the fish. The early Fellows of the Royal
Society, who attended to all the useful and common
arts, even improved fish-hooks ; and Prince Rupert, an
active member of that illustrious bod}^, taught the art of
tempering hooks to a person of the name of Kirby ;
under whose name, for more than a century, very good
hooks were sold. I shall take a walk towards the lake,
to enjoy a view of its cloud-capped mountains, and I
hope to find, on my return, that you have all had your
satisfaction in a good day's salmon-fishing.

Phys. — We shall crimp and cool a salmon, if we catch
a good one, for our dinner.

Hal. — Do so.

Orn. — But before you leave us, I wish you would be
good enough to inform us why the salmon here are so
different from those I have seen elsewhere : for instance,
some caught in the Alness, in Rosshire, which vre saw

SALMON OF THE EWE. 119

in passing round the south coast of Ross. These ap-
pear to me thicker and brighter fish ; and one that I
measured was 30 inches long, and 17 in circumference.
Hal. — I think I have seen broader fish than even
those of this river ; but the salmon which you happen to
remember for comparison, belonged to a small stream,
which, I think, in general are thinner and longer, than
those in great rivers ; and what I mentioned on a former
occasion with respect to trout, holds good likewise with
regard to salmon ; each river has a distinct kind. It is
scarcely possible to doubt that the varieties of the
salmon, which haunt the sea, come to the same rivers to
breed in which they were born, or where they have
spawned before. And this could hardly happen, unless
they confined their migrations to a certain space in the
sea, the boundaries of which may be regarded as the
shore, and probably deep water, which may be consi-
dered as effectual a limit almost as land ; for fish do not
willingly haunt very deep water, which even in summer
is of low temperature, approaching to 40°, and contains
little or no vegetable food or insects, which the smaller
fishes search for ; and the larger fishes follow the smaller.
It is, however, possible, that in Avinter, all fish fond of
heat, will seek water rather deeper than in summer;
and char and umbla in lakes are usually found in the
deepest parts, being fond of cool water ; and they come
to spawn, whenever the shallow water of the lakes be-
comes cool, in October or November. We cannot judge
of the senses of animals that breathe water, — that se-
parate air from water, by their gills ; but it seems pro-
bable that, as the quality of the water is connected Vvith
their life and health, they must be exquisitely sensible
to changes in water, and must have similar relations to
it, that an animal with the most delicate nasal organs has

120 SALMONIA.

to air. A vulture or a dog scents not only particular
food and particular game at great distances, but even
makes of the smell a kind of language ; and I doubt not,
that when dogs, that have been blindfolded and carried
away from their home, return to it, it is by the sense of
smelling ; to them each town, lane, or field, must have
a particular scent. A case has been related to me of a
dog, carried in a covered basket, from Badulla to Kandy,
a distance of 30 or 40 miles, over a road he had never
travelled before, and who returned to the spot from
which he was taken in less than 24 hours, through the
wildest parts of the mountainous district of Ceylon.
And I have seen even a blind horse, an animal in which
the sense of smelling is less acute, evidently find his way
by it to his master's house and stable, which was, in-
deed, near a tan-yard. The state of parts of water, in
the sea or great lakes, produced bj^ the impregnations
carried down by particular streams, is much more per-
manent, than a like state in air: so that, though the
knowledge given by the nasal organs may be more easily
communicated at a distance by winds, yet that produced
by streams on the branchiae of fishes, is more invariable ;
and a migratory fish is less likely to be deceived. Yet
in srcat floods, often connected with storms, or violent
motion in the waters near the shore, salmon sometimes
mistake their river. 1 remember in this way, owing to
a tremendous flood, catching with the fly a large salmon
that had mistaken his river, having come into the Bush,
near the Giant's Causeway, instead of the Bann. No
fish can be more distinct in the same species, than the
fish of these two rivers ; their length to their girth, being
nearly in a ratio of 20 : 9 and 20 : 13. — I am going:
good sport to you !

SALMON. 121

EVENING.

Hal. — I am sure I may congratulate you on your
sport ; for I see on the bank a fine salmon, three grauls
or grilses, and three large sea-trout.

Orn. — You have not seen all, for we have crimped
two fish — one a large salmon, and the other a trout
almost a yard long, and both in excellent season. We
have had great sport, and sport even of a kind which
you will not guess at ; for, when the tide was falling, the
fish ceased to rise at the fly, and I thought of trying
them with a bait ; so we sent for our swivel tackle, and
put par or samlet on our hooks, as we bait for pike ;
cutting off one ventral fin on one side, and one pectoral
fin on the other ; and making the par spin in the most
rapid streams, we had several runs from fish ; and it was
in this way that Poietes caught this large sea- trout,
which gave excellent sport.

Hal. — This kind of fishing is not uncommon. I have
often caught salmon in the Tay, fishing with pars ; but
though the fish ran at the bait, when they would not
rise at the fly, while the tide was ebbing, they would
have taken the par better still while it was flowing.

Phys. — From my experience to-day, I conclude the
salmon has habits different from the trout ; for I think
the fish which broke my hook, rose again at the artificial
fly in the same place.

Hal. — I think you are mistaken. Salmon are usually
shyer even than trout, and I never knew one in this
season, that had been pricked even slightly, rise again
at the artificial fly in the same pool. I should say, that
their habits were precisely the same, but with more sa-
gacity on the side of the salmon. It must have been
another fish that rose at your fly in the same place.

VOL. IX. G

122 SALMONIA.

After such severe discipline, I do not think a fish tn'ouM
rise for many hours, even at a natural bait.

PoiET. — Your experience is so great, that I dare
say I was mistaken ; yet it seemed a fish of the same size.

Hal. — Salmon often in this season haunt the streams
in pairs ; but so far from rising again after being pricked,
they appear to me to learn, when they have been some
time in the river, that the artificial fly is not food, even
without having been touched by the hook. In the river
at Gal way, in Ireland, I have seen above the bridge some
hundreds of salmon lying in rapid streams, and from five
to ten fishermen tempting them with every variety of
fly, but in vain. After a fish had been thrown over a few
times, and risen once or twice and refused the fly, he
rarely ever took any notice of it again in that place. It
was generally nearest the tide that fish were taken, and
the place next the sea was the most successful stand, and
the most coveted ; and when the water is low and clear
in this river, the Galway fishermen resort to the practice
of fishing with a naked hook, endeavouring to entangle
it in the bodies of the fish ; a most unartistlike practice.
In spring fishing, I have known a hungry, half-starved
salmon, rise at the artificial fly a second time, after
having been very slightly touched by it ; but even this
rarely happens ; and when I have seen it, the water has
been coloured.

Phys. — Can you tell us why the fish rise better at the
fly when the tide is flowing, than when it is ebbing?
There seems no reason why flies should be sought for by
the fish at one of these seasons, rather than at the other.

Hal. — The turn of the salt water brings up aquatic
insects, and perhaps small fish ; and I suppose salmon
know this, and search for food at a time when it is likely
to be found. I cannot think, that in these pools they

FOOD OF SALMON. 123

can be on the look-out for flies, for there are never any
on the surface of the water; and I imagine they take
the gaudy fly, with its blue kingfisher and golden phea-
sant's feathers, for a small fish.

Orn. — I have always supposed that they took it for a
libella, or dragon-fly ; for I have often seen these bril-
liant flies haunting the water.

Hal. — I never saw a dragon-fly drop on the water, or
taken by a fish ; and salmon sometimes rise even in the
salt water, where dragon-flies are never found. There is
no difficulty in explaining why salmon in inland rivers
should take flies, where natural flies are abundant ; but
fish, when they have lain long in pools in the river, and
fed on natural flies, will no longer take these bright
flies, and then even a trout-fly is often most successful.
I have sometimes thought that the rising of salmon and
sea- trout at these bright flies, as soon as they come from
the sea into rivers, might depend upon a sort of imper-
fect memory of their early food and habits; for flies
form a great part of the food of the salmon fry, which,
for a month or two after they are hatched, feed like
young trouts ; and in March and April, the spring flies
are their principal nourishment. In going back to fresh
water, they may perhaps have their habits of feeding re-
called to them, and naturally search for their food at the
surface.

PoiET. — This appears to me very probable. But it is
late, and we must return and compare the crimped trout
and salmon : and I hope we shall have another good day
to-morrow, for the clouds are red in the west.

Phys. — I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint
of purple.

Hal. — Do you know why this tint portends fine
weather ?

g2

124 SALMOJVIA.

Phys. — The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more
red, or heat-making rays; and as dry air is not per-
fectly transparent, they are again reflected in the ho-
rizon. I have generally observed a coppery or yellow
sunset to foretel rain ; but, as an indication of wet
weather approaching, nothing is more certain than a
halo round the moon, which is produced by the preci-
pitated water ; and the larger the circle, the nearer the
clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall.

Hal. — I have often observed, that the old proverb is
correct —

A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning :
A rainbow at night is tlie shepherd's delight.

Can you explain this omen ?

Phys. — A rainbow can only occur when the clouds
containing or depositing the rain, are opposite to the
sun ; and in the evening the rainbow is in the east, and
in the morning in the west; and as our heavy rains, in
this climate, are usually brought by the westerly wind, a
rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on
the road, by the wind, to us ; whereas the rainbow in
the east, proves that the rain in these clouds is passing
from us.

PoiET. — I have often observed that, when the swal-
lows fly high, fine w^eather is to be expected or conti-
nued: but when they fly low, and close to the ground, rain
is almost surely approaching. Can you account for this?

Hal. — Swallows follow the flies and gnats ; and flies
and gnats usually delight in warm strata of air ; and as
^varm air is lighter^ and usually moister, than cold air,
when the warm strata of air are high, there is less
chance of moisture being thrown down from them, by
the mixture with cold air; but when the warm and
moist air is close to the surface, it is almost certain that,

INDICATIONS OF RAINY WEATHER. 125

as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of water
will take place.

PoiET. — I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the
land, and have almost always observed, that very stormy
and rainy weather was approaching. I conclude that
these animals, sensible of a current of air approaching
from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter themselves
from the storm.

Orn. — No such thing. The storm is their element ;
and the little petrel enjoys the heaviest gale, because,
living on the smaller sea insects, he is sure to find his
food in the spray of a heavy wave — and you may see
him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I be-
lieve that the reason of this migration of sea-gulls, and
other sea birds, to the land, is their security of finding
food. They may be observed, at this time, feeding
greedily on the earth worms and larvae, driven out of
the ground by severe floods ; and the fish, on which
they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface,
when storms prevail, and go deeper. The search after
food, as we agreed on a former occasion, is the principal
cause why animals change their places. The different
tribes of the wading birds always migrate, when rain is
about to take place; and I remember once, in Italy,
having been long waiting, in the end of March, for the
arrival of the double snipe in the Campagna of Rome,
— a great flight appeared on the 3d of April, and the
day after, heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered
with my sport. The vulture, upon the same principle,
follows armies ; and I have no doubt, that the augury
of the ancients, was a good deal founded upon the ob-
servation of the instincts of birds. There are many su-
perstitions of the vulgar, owing to the same source. For
anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see single

126 SALMONIA.

magpies, — but two may be always regarded as a favour-
able omen ; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy
weather, one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of
food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs, or the
young ones ; but when two go out together, the weather
is warm and mild, and thus favourable for fishing.

PoiET. — The singular connexions of causes and effects,
to which we have just referred, make superstition less to
be wondered at, particularly amongst the vulgar; and
when two facts, naturally unconnected, have been acci-
dentally coincident, it is not singular that this coinci-
dence should have been observed and registered, and
that omens of the most absurd kind, should be trusted
in. In the west of England, half a century ago, a par-
ticular hollow noise on the sea-coast was referred to a
spirit or goblin, called Bucca, and was supposed to fore-
tel a shipwreck : the philosopher knows that sound
travels much faster than currents in the air; and the
sound always foretold the approach of a very heavy
storm, which seldom takes place on that wild and rocky
coast, surrounded as it is by the Atlantic, without a
shipwreck on some part of its extensive shores.

Phys. — All the instances of omens you have men-
tioned, are founded on reason ; but how can you explain
such absurdities as Friday being an unlucky day, the
terror of spilling salt, or meeting an old woman ? I knew
a man, of very high dignity, who was exceedingly
moved by these omens, and who never went out shoot-
ins:, without a bittern's claw fastened to his buttonhole
by a riband — which he thought ensured him good luck.

PoiET. — These, as well as the omens of death-watches,
dreams, &c., are for the most part founded upon some
accidental coincidences ; but spilling of salt, on an un-
common occasion, may, as I have known it, arise from

OMENS. 127

a disposition to apoplexy, shown by an incipient numb-
ness in the hand, and may be a fatal symptom ; and per-
sons, dispirited by bad omens, sometimes prepare the
way for evil fortune ; for confidence in success, is a great
means of ensuring it. The dream of Brutus, before the
field of Philippi, probably produced a species of irreso-
lution and despondency, which was the principal cause of
his losing the battle : and I have heard that the illustrious
sportsman, to whom you referred just no^Y, was always
observed to shoot ill, because he shot carelessly, after one
of his dispiriting omens.

Hal. — I have in life met with a few things, which I
found it impossible to explain, either by chance, coinci-
dences, or by natural connexions ; and I have known
minds of a very superior class affected by them, — persons
in the habit of-reasoning deeply and profoundly.

Phys. — In my opinion profound minds are the most
likely to think lightly of the resources of human reason :
it is the pert, superficial thinker, who is generally
strongest in every kind of unbelief The deep philoso-
pher sees chains of causes and effects so wonderfully
and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last
person to decide upon the impossibility of any two series
of events being independent of each other; and in
science, so many natural miracles, as it were, have been
brought to light, — such as the fall of stones from meteors
in the atmosphere, the disarming a thunder cloud by a
metallic point, the production of fire from ice, by a metal
white as silver, and referring certain laws of motion of
the sea to the moon, — that the physical inquirer is
seldom disposed to assert, confidently, on any abstruse
subjects belonging to the order of natural things, and
still less so on those relating to the more mysterious re-
lations of moral events, and intellectual natures.

128 SALMONIA.

SEVENTH DAY.

HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICU9.

GRAYLING FISHING.

SCENE LEINTWARDINE, NEAK LUDLOW.

Time — Beginning of October.

Hal. — You have reached your quarters. Here is your
home — a rural, peaceable, and unassuming inn — with as
worthy a host and hostess as may be found in this part
of the country. The river glides at the bottom of the
garden ; and there is no stream in England more produc-
tive of grayling. The surrounding scenery is not de-
void of interest, and the grounds in the distance are
covered with stately woods, and laid out (or rather their
natural beauties developed) by the hand of a master,
whose liberal and enlightened mind even condescended
to regard the amusements of the angler ; and he could
hardly have contributed in a more effectual manner to
their comforts, than by placing the good people, who
were once his servants, in this comfortable inn.

Phys.: — Are we to fish according to any rule, as to
quantity or size of fish ?

Hal. — You are at perfect liberty to fish as you like ;
but as it is possible you may catch grayling only of this
year, and which are not longer than the hand, I conclude
you will return such pigmies to the river, as a matter of
propriety, though not of necessity.

PoiET. — This river seems formed of two other streams,
which join above our inn. What are the names of its
sources ?

Hal. — The small river to the left is called the Teme,
or Little Teme ; and though the least stream, it gives
name to the river : the other, and more copious stream^

GRAYLING. 129

is called the Clan. The Little Teme contains prin-
cipally trout ; the Clun, both trout and grayling : but
the fish are more abundant in the meadows, between
this place and Downton, than in other parts of the river ;
for above, the stream is too rapid and shallow, to be fa-
vourable to their increase ; and below, it is joined by
other streams, and becomes too abundant in coarse fish.

PoiET. — I cannot understand why the grayling should
be so scarce a fish in England. It is abundant in many
districts on the Continent ; but in this island it is found,
I believe, only in a few rivers ; and does not exist, I
think, either in Ireland or Scotland Yet, being an
Alpine fish, and naturally fond of cool water, it might
have been expected among the Highlands.

Hal. — I formerly used to account for this, by sup-
posing it an imported fish, and not indigenous ; but, in
some of my continental excursions, I have seen it living
only under such peculiar circumstances, that I doubt the
correctness of this, my early opinion.

PoiET. — Which was, I conclude, that it was intro-
duced by the monks, in the time when England was
under the See of Rome. As a favourite fish of St.
Ambrose, it was worth cultivating, as well as for its own
sake ; and I think yon have done wrong to relinquish this
idea — for, as far as my recollection serves me, the rivers
that contain it, are near the ruins of great monasteries.
The Avon, near Salisbury ; the Ure, near Fountains Ab-
bey; the Wye, near the great Abbey of Tintern ; and, if
I am not mistaken, in the lower part of this valley there
are the remains of an extensive establishment of friars.

Hal. — But there are rivers near the ruins of some of
the most magnificent establishments of this kind in
Europe, and those nearest the Continent, where the
grayling is not found; for instance, in the Stour, at

G 5

130 SALMONIA.

Canterbury. And if the grayling he an imported fish, it
is wonderful that it should not be found in the rivers in
Kent, and along the south-west coast of England, as in
Dorsetshire, Devonshire, and Cornwall, where the mo-
nastic establishments were numerous : and why it should
be found in some rivers in the mountainous parts of
Wales, as in that near Llan-wrted, and the Dee ; not
near Val Crusis Abbey, but fifteen miles higher up,
between Corwen and Bala.

PoiET. — It may have been a fish imported from the
Continent, and carried to a number of rivers, only a
few of which may have suited its habits, and has re-
mained there and multiplied.

Hal. — There maybe truth in what you are now ima-
gining ; for the grayling requires a number of circum-
stances in a river to enable it to increase.

PoiET. — What circumstances are these?

Hal. — A temperature in the water which must be
moderate — neither too high nor too low. Grayling are
never found in streams that run from glaciers — at least
near their source ; and they are killed by cold or heat.
I once put some grayhng from the Teme, in September,
with some trout, into a confined water, rising from a
spring in the yard at Downton ; the grayling all died,
but the trout lived. And in the hot summer of 1825,
great numbers of large grayling died in the Avon, below
Ringwood, without doubt killed by the heat in July.

PoiET. — But I have heard of grayling being common
in Lapland — at least so says Linnaeus.

Hal. — I think it must be another species of the same
genus ; the same as Back's grayling, found by Captain
Franklin and his companions in North America, and
distinguished by a much larger back fin. Having tra-
velled with the fishing-rod in my hand through most of

GRAYLING. 131

the Alpine valleys in the south and east of Europe, and
some of those in Norway and Sweden, I have always
found the char in the coldest and highest waters ; the
trout in the brooks rising in the highest and coldest
mountains ; and the grayling always lower, where the
temperature was milder ; and if in hot countries, only at
the foot of mountains, not far from sources which had
the mean temperature of the atmosphere — as in the Vi-
pacco, near Goritzia — and in the streams which gush
forth from the limestone caverns of the Noric Alps,
Besides temperature, grayling require a peculiar cha-
racter in the disposition of the water of rivers. They do
not dwell, like trout, in rapid shallow torrents ; nor, like
char, or chub, in deep pools or lakes. They require a
combination of stream and pool ; they like a deep, still
pool, for rest, and a rapid stream above, and a gradually
declining shallow below, and a bottom, w^here marl or
loam is mixed with gravel ; and they are not found
abundant, except in rivers that have these characters.
It is impossible to have a more perfect specimen of a
grayling river, than that now running before us, in this
part of its course. You see a succession of deep, still
pools, under shady banks of marl, with gentle rapids
above, and a long shelving tail, where the fish sport and
feed. Should there be no such pools in a river, gray-
ling would remain, provided the water was clear, and
would breed ; but they cannot stem rapid streams ; and
they are gradually carried down lower and lower, and at
last disappear. You know the Test, one of the finest
trout streams in Hampshire, and, of course, in England ;
when I first knew this stream, twenty years ago, there
were no grayling in it. A gentleman brought some from
the Avon, and introduced them into the river at Long-
stock, above Stockbridge. They w ere for two or three

132 SALMONIA.

years very abundant in that part of the river ; but they
gradually descended, and though they multiplied greatly,
there are now scarcely any above Stockbridge, There
were, four years ago, many in the river just below ; but
this year there are very few there ; and the great pro-
portion that remains, is found below Houghton. I ought
to mention that the water is particularly fitted for them,
and they become larger in this river, than in their native
place, the Avon — some of them weighing between 3 and
4 lbs. The trout, in all its habits of migration, runs
upward, seeking the fresh and cool waters of mountain
sources to spawn in ; the grayling, I believe, has never
the same habit of running up stream ; I never saw one
leaping at a fall, where trout are so often seen. Their
large back fin seems intended to enable them to rise and
sink rapidly in deep pools ; and the slender nature of the
body, towards the tail, renders them much more unfit
for leaping cataracts, than trout and salmon. The tem-
perature of the water, and its character as to still and
stream, seem of more importance than clearness ; for I
have seen grayling taken in streams, that are almost
constantly turbid, — as in the Inn and the Salza in the
Tyrol. This fish appears to require food of a particular
kind, feeding much upon flies, and their larvae, and not
usually preying upon small fish, as the trout. It has a
very strong stomach, in texture like that of the gillaroo
trout ; and is exceedingly fond of those larvae which
inhabit cases, and are usually covered with sand or
gravel. I once caught a grayling in the Wochain Save,
that weighed about a pound and half, the stomach of
which equalled in size a very large walnut, and contained
some small shells, and two or three white round pebbles
as large as small beans. In accordance with their ge-
neral habits of feeding, grasshoppers are amongst their

GRAYLING. 133

usual food in the end of summer and autumn; and at all
seasons maggots, upon fine tackle, and a small hook,
offer a secure mode of taking them — the pool having
been previously baited for the purpose of angling, by
throwing in a handful or two a few minutes before.

PoiET. — You just now said, that you thought the
Lapland fish, considered by Linnaeus as grayling, was
the same as Back's grayling ; but I find, in the Appendix
to Captain Franklin's narration, two graylings described
as belonging to the northern regions, — one the Core-
gonus Signifer — and another, which appears to differ
very little from it, except being small in size. This
seems to agree as nearly as possible with our grayling,
with a difference of at most one spine in the back fin.
May not this, in fact, be the same fish, as the grayling
of the Alps, only rendered in a succession of generations
fit for a colder climate ?

Hal. — This is certainly possible : there is no doubt,
that, in many successive generations, animals may be
fitted to bear changes, which would have destroyed their
progenitors. It is said by Bloch, that graylings are
found in the Caspian Sea, and in the Baltic, — masses of
saline water; though, as I have proved, the gra^^ling of
England will not bear even a brackish water, without
dying. And notwithstanding the severity of the winter
in high northern latitudes, streams under the ice may
retain a temperature not much lower than some of the
Alpine rivers. I have seen grayling in Carniola, in a
source at the hottest season, not quite 50° ; and, as in
large bodies of water, the deepest part, in frost, is ge-
nerally the warmest — about 40°, the degree at which
water is heaviest — I see no reason why grayling may
not be habituated to such a temperature — coolness being
generally favourable to their existence. But see, the

134 SALMONIA.

fog which had filled the valley, and hid the mountains
from our sight, is clearing away, and I fear it will be a
hot day. Before the sun becomes too bright, is the best
time for fishing, in such a day as this. As soon as the
fog is fairly off, the water-flies will begin to appear, and
fish to sport.

Phys. — I see the fog has already disappeared from the
deep water in the meadow, where I suppose the warmth
of the air, from the considerable mass of the water, is
greater ; and which is further removed from the hills
sending down currents of cold air, from the mixture of
which with the moist warm air above the river, this
phenomenon is produced. I see some yellow flies begin-
ning to come out ; they have already felt the influence
of the warm air : and look ! a fish has just risen opposite
that bank, and he rises again : let us prepare our tackle.

PoiET. — What flies shall we employ ?

Hal. — I recommend at least three ; for the grayling
lies deeper, and is not so shy a fish, as the trout ; and,
provided your link is fine, is not apt to be scared by the
cast of flies on the water. The fineness of the link, and
of the gut to w^hich your flies are attached, is a most
essential point ; and the clearer the stream, the finer
should be the tackle. I have known good fishermen
foiled, by using a gut of ordinary thickness, though their
fly was of the right size and colour. Very slender trans-
parent gut of the colour of the water, is one of the most
important causes of success in grayling fishing. Let me
see your book : I will select a fine stretcher. Now, for
the low^est fly, use a yellow-bodied fly, with red hackle
for legs, and landrail's wing : for the second, a blue dun,
W' ith dun body ; and for the highest, the claret-coloured
body, with blue wings ; and let your first dropper fly be
about three feet from the stretcher, and from the other

GRAYLING. 135

dropper, and let the hanging-link, which attaches them,
be 3i inches long.

PiiYS. — There are several fish rising : I shall throw at
that opposite — he appears large.

Hal. — It is a trout, and not a grayling.

Phys.— How do you know?

Hal. — By his mode of rising. He is lying at the top
of the water, taking the flies as they sail down by him,
which a grayling scarcely ever does. He rises rapidly
from the bottom or middle of the water on the contrary
— darting upwards; and, having seized his fly, returns
to his station. There ! a grayling has risen. I do not
mean, however, that this habit is invariable ; I have
sometimes seen trout feed like grayling, and grayling like
trout ; but neither of these fish emits bubbles of air in
rising, as dace and chub do.

Phys. — I have one ! He has taken my blue dun, and
must be a small one ; for he plays with no vigour.

Hal. — He is about f lb. — a fish of two years and a half
old — ver}^ good for the table. I will land him, if possible.

Phys.— There ! He is off !

Hal. — This happens often with grayling : their
mouths are tender, and unless the hook catches in the
upper lip, which is rather thick, it is more than an equal
chance that the fish escapes you.

Phys. — Here, I have another, that has taken the
stretcher ; and as it is a larger hook, I hope he may be
held. He is likewise a larger fish — but how oddly he
spins ! This, I suppose, must be owing to his large back
fin, by which the stream carries him round. There he
is : he has quite twisted my link ; it would not be amiss
to have swivels for this kind of fishing.

Hal. — It is a fish in good season, — dark above, fair
below — and weighs, I should suppose, about 1^ lb.

136 SALMONIA.

PfiYS. — As this is the first grayling I have seen of my
own taking, I must measure, weigh, and examine him.

Hal. — We can do this hereafter. See, our fish
barrel ; he can be kept alive till a more convenient time
of the day.

Phys. — I am disposed to gratify my curiosity im.me-
diately ; for to acquire information, is at least as inte-
resting to me as catching fish. I shall kill him by a blow
on the head. He is not, I suppose, worth crimping
afterwards ?

Hal. — -Certainly not, at this time; and it is not ne-
cessary with a fish of this size, which ought to be fried ;
but if we catch a large grayling, approaching to 2 lbs.,
he shall be killed, crimped, and boiled, like our Denham
trout ; you will then find him excellent, and not inferior,
in my opinion, to the best perch ; more like the most
exquisitely tasted of all our fish, the red mullet.

Phys. — Out of the water, this is a handsome fish,
broader round the middle, and more hog-backed than
the trout, but gracefully tapering towards the tail. The
belly, I see, is silvery with yellow ; and the pectoral,
ventral, and anal fins, are almost gold-coloured; the
back gray, with small black spots, and the back fin of a
beautiful bright purple, with black and blue spots. It has
likewise an agreeable odour ; so that, both from its co-
lour and smell, it does not seem undeserving the title
given it by St. Ambrose, of the Jlovjer of fishes. It
measures, I find, 14 inches in length ; in girth, 7^. It
weighs 17 ounces. It has 10 spines in the pectoral fin,
23 in the dorsal, 16 in the ventral, 14 in the anal, and
1 8 in the caudal.

Hal. — Now for its anatomy. Its stomach is very
thick, not unlike that of a char, or gillaroo trout, and
contains flies, gravel, and larvae, with their cases. The
liver and bowels do not differ much from those of a

GRAYLING. 137

trout ; and the ovaria or roe, with eggs as large as mus-
tard seed, are on each side the air bladder. Though a
thicker fish, the grayling does not weigh much more
than the J:rout, in proportion to his length : the greater
breadth of back is compensated by the more rapid taper-
ing of tail ; and a trout, in very high season, will some-
times equal in weight a grayling of the same length.
The ova in this fish, and in the species generally, are
very small at this time of the year ; but, in the beginning
of April, the season of their spawning, they become
nearly as large as the ova of the trout — of the size of
peppercorns. But I see, Poietes, your rod is in order,
and there are many fish rising in this deep pool, some
of which are large grayling. The blue dun is on in
quantity, and we have both cloud and wind, which half
an hour ago we had no right to expect. Let me advise
you to use three flies of different shades of the dun :
the stretcher, a pale blue with yellow body; the first
dropper a winged fly with dun body ; and the third, a
similar fly with dark bod}^ There, you see ; he rose
and refused your stretcher— and again he has a second
time refused it. I think the colour of the dubbing is
too bright : try a winged fly for the stretcher, with a
greenish body. Good — he has taken it, and ought to be
a large fish. Now we have him : he is at least sixteen
inches long, and in good season. Ornither, I advise you
to use the same kind of fly, and to put up your tackle
precisely in the same way as Poietes has done.

PoiET. — How well they rise ! At that moment I
had two on my line : "one of them is gone, but I hope I
shall land the other.

Hal. — Fish with activity while the cloud lasts. I
fear the sun is coming out, when it will be more diffi-
cult to take fish. 1 shall try the next pool, and I ad-
vise you to follow me and fish by turns, — passing each

138 SALMONIA.

Other, and taking different pools below, and so wend
your way downwards, fishing wherever you see fish
sporting. There is no better part of the river than that
pool below you, and you cannot take a wrong direction.
Immediately beyond Burrington Bridge you will find
two excellent pools, and I advise you to go no farther
down to-day. If you take a fish approaching 2 lbs., keep
him alive in the fish barrel for crimping ; the smaller
fish you can kill, and carry with some rushes in your
basket; we shall at least be able to send a dish of
grayling to the patron of our sport at Down ton.*

NOON.

Hal. — Well, gentlemen, I hope you have been suc-
cessful.

PoiET. — We have had good sport; but I have been
for some time reposing on this bank, and admiring the
scene below. How fine are these woods ! How beautiful
are these banks ! the hills in the distance approach to
the character of mountains; and the precipitous cliff,
which forms the summit of that distant elevation, looks
like a diluvian monument, and as if it had been bared
and torn by a deluge which it had stemmed.

Hal. — It is one of the Clee hills, and its termination
is basaltic, and such rocks usually assume such forms.
But though this spot is beautiful, to-morrow I hope to
show you a more exquisite landscape, — cliffs and woods,
and gushing waters, of a character still more romantic.
We will return to our inn by a shorter road ; but tell
me, have you caught a large fish amongst you, and pre-
served him for crimping ?

* [The late Mr. Knight, whose name as a physiologist belongs to the
records of science. Vide p. 161, for the author's sentiments of respect
and regard for this excellent and distinguished man ; and also the intro-
ductory notice in page 171, Vol- vii., to the Lectures on Agricultural
Chemistry, which were dedicated to him.]

GRAYLING FISHING. 1S9

PoiET. — We have preserved two fishes in the barrel,
but I fear they are much below your proposed size.

Hal. — They are good fish, and of the average size of
the large grayling in this stream — 16 inches long, and
about 4 lb. ; they will make a good variety boiled and
placed in the middle of the fried fish. And how many
have you caught altogether ?

PoiET. — I have basketed (to coin a word) three trout
and six grayling.

Phys. — And I have taken seven grayling. I caught
trout likewise, but, not considering them in proper sea-
son, I returned them to the river : but Ornither has
been the most successful — he has killed ten grayling.

Hal. — The trout is rarely good in this river — at least
I never saw one that cut red, and yet I have taken them
in July, when their external appearance was perfect and
beautiful ; but they have, to my taste, always a flabby
and soft character of flesh, and at all seasons here are
inferior for the table to grayling ; yet they often attain
a considerable size. There are few small fish in these
streams, and I suppose the grayling, which are most
numerous, deprive the trout of their proper share of
the food, depending upon larvae and flies.

Phys. — As we are walking through these meadows,
pray give us some information as to the habits of the
grayling, and its localities in England : I have been so
much pleased with my sport, that I shall become, with
St. Ambrose, a patron of the fish.

Hal. — The habits of the grayling, like those of most
other fish, are very simple. He is, I believe, to a cer-
tain extent, gregarious — more so than the trout, and less
so than the perch, and the usual varieties of the carp
species known in England. His form and appearance
you have seen. He is as yet scarcely in his highest

140 SALMONIA.

or most perfect season, which is in the end of November
or beginning of December, when his back is very dark,
almost black, and his belly and lower fins are nearly
gold-coloured ; but his brightness, like that of most
other fishes, depends a good deal upon the nature of the
water : and on the Continent I have seen fishes far more
brilliantly coloured than in England — the lower part
almost a bright orange, and the back fin approaching to
the colour of the damask rose, or rather of an anemone.
The grayling spawns in April, and sometimes as late as
the beginning of May : the female deposits her ova in
the tails of sharp streams. I do not know how long a
time is required for the exclusion of the young ones ;
but in the end of July, or beginning of August, they are
of the size of sprats, four or five inches long, and already
sport merrily at a fly. Though I have often taken
grayling in bad season, yet I have rarely observed upon
them the same kind of leech,^ or louse, which is so often
found upon the trout ; from which I infer, that they
seldom hide themselves, or become torpid in the mud.
The grayling hatched in May or June, I conclude, be-
come the same year, in September or October, nine or
ten inches long, and weigh from Jive ounces to licdf a
pound ; and the year after they are from twelve to fif-
teen inches long, and weigh from three quarters to a

* I may mention one remarkable instance as an exception, which has
recently occurred to me, the 21st of May, 1828. I was fishing in the
Save, between Wocliain and Veldes, in some deep, clear, bright, green
pools. I caught five or six grayling between 15 and 17 inches long, that
had all leeches near the tail ; they were beautifully coloured, and had
probably got these parasitic animals after their spawning, when they re-
posed. Of course this was the time when they were in their worst
season. At this time they often rose at and refused the fly, but there
were as yet no large flies on the water. The leech was a small greenish
dark worm, about an inch or an inch and a half long, like a commou
leech in form and colour.

GRAYLING RIVERS. 141

pound ; and these two sizes, as 3^ou have seen, are the
fish that most usually rise at the fly. The first size in
this river is called shote, which is a Celtic word, I be-
lieve, applied likewise in the west of England to small
trout. Of their growth after the second year I cannot
speak ; this must depend much on their food and place
of residence. Marsigli says, they do not grow after the
third year, and at this age, in Austria, they are some-
times a cubit long ; but though I have fished much in
that country, I never saw any so long. If they are
taken into new and comparatively still water recently
made, and where food is plenty, they grow very fast :
under these circumstances, I have seen them above 3 lbs.
In the Test, where, as I mentioned before, the grayling
has been only recently introduced, they have some-
times been caught between 3 and 4 lbs. — in this river I
never took one above 2 lbs. but I have heard of one
being taken of 2 J lbs. The grayling is a rare fish in Eng-
land, and has never been found in Scotland and Ireland
(as Poietes observed before); and there are few rivers con-
taining all the conditions necessary for their increase. I
know of no grayling farther west than the Avon, in Hamp-
shire: they are found in some of the tributary streams
of this river which rise in Wiltshire. I know of no river
containing them on the north coast west of the Severn :
there are very few only in the upper part of this river,
and in the streams which form it in North Wales.
There are a few in the Wye and its tributary streams.
In the Lug, which flows through the next valley in
Herefordshire, many grayling are found. In the Dee,
as I have said before, they are found, but are not com-
mon. In Derbyshire and Staffordshire, the Dove, the
Wye, the Trent and the Blithe, afford grayling; in
Yorkshire, on the north coast, some of the tributary

142 SALMONIA.

Streams of the Ribble, — and in the south, the Ure, the
Wharfe, the Ilumber, the Derwent, and the streams that
form it, particularly the liye. There may be some
other localities of this fish unknown to me ; but as I
have fished much, and inquired much respecting the
places where it is found, I think my information
tolerably correct and complete.

Phys. — Is this fish to be fished for in spring ?

Hal. — He is to be fished for at all times, for he is
rarely so much out of season as to be a bad fish ; and
when there are flies on the water, he will generally take
them : but as the trout may be considered a spring and
summer fish, so the grayling may be considered as a
w^inter and autumnal fish.

Phys. — Of course the grayling is taken in spring with
the same imitation of flies as the trout?

Hal. — The same. As far as flies are concerned, these
two species feed alike ; though I may say, generally,
that the grayling prefers smaller flies ; and the varieties
of the ephemerae or phryganeae, of the smallest size,
form their favourite food. Yet grayling do not refuse
large flies ; and in the Avon and Test, Ma3"-flies, and
even moths, are greedily taken in the summer by large
grayling. Flies, likewise, that do not inhabit the w^ater,
but are blown from the land, are good baits for gray-
ling. There is no method more killing, for large gray-
ling, than applying a grasshopper to the point of a
leaded hook, the lead and shank of which are covered
with green and yellow silk, to imitate the body of the
animal. This mode of fishing is called sinking and
drawing. I have seen it practised in this river with as
much success as maggot fishing; and the fish taken
were all of the largest size ; the method being most
successful in deep holes, where the bottom was not

BAITS OF GRAYLING. 143

visible, which are the natural haunts of such fish. In
the winter, grayling rise for an hour or two, in bright
and tolerably warm weather; and, at this time, the
smallest imitations of black or pale gnats that can be
made, on the smallest sized hook, succeed best in taking
them. In March, the dark-bodied willow fly may be
regarded as the earliest fly; the imitation of which is
made by a dark claret dubbing and a dun hackle, or
small starling's wing feathers. The blue dun comes on
in the middle of the day in this month, and is imitated
by dun hackles for wings and legs, and an olive dubbing
for body. In mild weather, in morning and evening in
this month, and through April, the green tail, or gran-
nom, comes on in great quantities, and is well imitated
by a hen pheasant's wing feather, a gray or red hackle
for legs, and a dark peacock's harle, or dark hare's ear
fur, for the body. The same kind of fly, of a larger
size, with paler wings, kills well in the evening, through
May or June. The imitation of a water-insect called
the spider-fly, with a lead-coloured body and wood-
cock's wings, is said to be a killing bait, on this and
other rivers, in the end of April and beginning of May ;
but I never happened to see it on the water. The dark
alder fly, in May and June, is taken greedily by the
fish : it is imitated by a dark-shaded pheasant's wing,
black hackle for legs, and a peacock's harle, ribbed with
red silk, for the body. At this season, and in July,
imitations of the black and red palmer worms, which I
believe are taken for black or brown, or red beetles or
cockchafers, kill well ; and, in dark weather, there are
usually very light duns on the water. In August, imi-
tations of the house fly and blue bottle, and the red and
black ant fly, are taken, and are particularly killing after
floods in autumn, when great quantities of the fly are

144 SALMONIA.

destroyed and washed down the river. In this month,
in cloudy days, pale-blue duns often appear; and they
are still more common in September. Throughout the
summer and autumn, in fine calm evenings, a large dun
fly, with a pale yellow body, is greedily taken by gray-
ling after sunset ; and the imitation of it is very killing.
In the end of October, and through November, there is
no fly-fishing but in the middle of the day, when imita-
tions of the smaller duns may be used with great suc-
cess ; and I have often seen the fish sport most, and fly-
fishing pursued with the greatest success, in bright sun-
shine, from twelve till half-past two o'clock, after severe
frosts in the morning ; and I once caught, under these
circumstances, a very fine dish offish on the 7th of No-
vember. It was in the year 1816; the summer and
autumn had been peculiarly cold and wet, and, probably
in consequence of this, the flies were in smaller quan-
tity at their usual season, and there was a greater pro-
portion later in the year.

Grayling, if you take your station by the side of a
river, will rise nearer to you than trout, for they lie
deeper, and therefore are not so much scared by an ob-
ject on the bank ; but they are more delicate in the
choice of their flies than trout, and will much oftencr rise
and refuse the fly. Trout, from lying nearer the surface,
are generally taken before grayling, where the water is
slightly coloured, or after a flood : and in rain, trout
usually rise better than grayling, though it sometimes
happens, when great quantities of flies come out in rain,
grayling, as well as trout, are taken with more certainty
than at any other time ; — the artificial fl}^, in such cases,
looks like a wet fly, and allures even the grayling, which
generally is more difficult to deceive than trout in the
same river.

GENERATION OF EELS. 145

Phys. — As I was looking into a ditch coming down
the river, which is connected with it^ I saw a very large
eel at the bottom, that appeared to me to be feeding on
a small grayling : — are there many of this fish in the
Teme, and do they breed here ?

Hal. — There are many of this fish in the river ; but
to your question, do they breed here ? I must answer in
the negative. The problem of their generation is the
most abstruse, and one of the most curious in natural
history : and though it occupied the attention of Ari-
stotle, and has been taken up by most distinguished
naturalists since his time, it is still unsolved.

Phys. — I thought there was no doubt on the subject.
Lacepede, whose book is the only scientific one on fishes
I have read with attention, asserts, in the most unquali-
fied way, that they are viviparous.

Hal. — I remember his assertion, but I looked in vain
for proofs.

Phys. — I do not remember any facts brought for-
ward on the subject ; but tell us what do you think
upon it.

Hal. — I will tell you all I know, which is not much.
This is certain, that there are two migrations of eels, —
one up and one down rivers, one from and the other to
the sea ; the first in spring and summer, the second in
autumn or early winter. The first, of very small eels,
which are sometimes not more than two or two and a
half inches long; the second, of large eels, which some-
times are three or four feet long, and weigh from 10 to
15, or even 20 lbs. There is great reason to believe
that all eels found in fresh water are the results of the
first migration : they appear in millions in April
and May, and sometimes continue to rise as late even
as July and the beginning of August. I remember this
vol. IX. H

146 SALMONIA.

was the case in Ireland, in 1823. It had been a cold
backward summer, and when I was at Ballyshannon,
about the end of July, the mouth of the river, which
had been in flood all this month, under the fall, was
blackened by millions of little eels, about as long as
the finger, which were constantly urging their way
up the moist rocks by the side of the fall. Thousands
died, but their bodies remaining moist, served as the
ladder for others to make their way; and I saw some
ascending even perpendicular stones, making their road
through wet moss, or adhering to some eels, that had
died in the attempt. Such is the energy of these little
animals, that they continue to find their way, in immense
numbers, to Loch Erne. The same thing happened at
the fall of the Bann, and Loch Neagh is thus peopled
by them : even the mighty Fall of Shaff hausen does not
prevent them from making their way to the Lake of
Constance, where I have seen very large eels.

Phys. — You have shown, that some eels come from
the sea, but I do not think the facts prove, that all eels
are derived from that source.

Hal. — Pardon me — I have not concluded. There
are eels in the Lake of Neufchatel, which communicates
by a stream with the Rhine ; but there are none in the
Leman Lake, because the Rhone makes a subterraneous
fall below Geneva; and though small eels can pass by
moss or mount rocks, they cannot penetrate limestone,
or move against a rapid descending current of water,
passing, as it were, through a pipe. Again : no eels
mount the Danube from the Black sea ; and there are
none found in the great extent of lakes, swamps, and
rivers communicating with the Danube, — though some
of these lakes and morasses are wonderfully fitted for
them, and though they are found abundantly in the same

MIGRATION OF EELS. 147

countries, in lakes and rivers connected with the ocean
and the Mediterranean. Yet, when brought into con-
fined water in the Danube, they fatten and thrive there.
As to the instinct, which leads young eels to seek fresh
water, it is difficult to reason: — probably they prefer
warmth, and, swimming at the surface in the early sum-
mer, find the lighter water warmer, and likewise con-
taining more insects, and so pursue the courses of fresh
water, as the waters from the land, at this season, be-
come warmer than those of the sea. Mr. J. Couch
(Lin. Trans, t. xiv. p. 70) says, that the little eels, ac-
cording to his observation, are produced within reach of
the tide, and climb round falls to reach fresh water from
the sea. I have sometimes seen them, in spring, swim-
ming in immense shoals in the Atlantic, in IVIount's Bay,
making their way to the mouths of small brooks and
rivers. When the cold water from the autumnal floods
begins to swell the rivers, this fish tries to return to the
sea ; but numbers of the smaller ones hide themselves
during the winter in the mud, and many of them form,
as it were, masses together. Various authors have re-
corded the migration of eels in a singular way, — such
as Dr. Plot, who, in his History of Staffordshire, says,
that they pass in the night, across meadows, from one
pond to another : and Mr. Arderon (in Trans. Royal
Soc.) gives a distinct account of small eels rising up the
flood-gates and posts of the water-works of the city of
Norwich ; and they made their way to the water above,
though the boards were smooth planed, and five or six
feet perpendicular. He says^ when they first rose out
of the water upon the dry board, they rested a little —
which seemed to be till their slime was thrown out,
and sufficiently glutinous — and then they rose up the
perpendicular ascent with the same facility as if they

h2

148 SALMONIA.

had been moving on a plane surface. — (Trans. Abr. vol.
ix. p. 311.) There can, I think, be no doubt, that they
are assisted by their small scales, which, placed like those
of serpents, must facilitate their progressive motion ;
these scales have been microscopically observed by
Lewenhoeck. — (Phil. Trans, vol. iv.) Eels migrate
from the salt water of different sizes, but I believe never
when they are above a foot long — and the great mass of
them are only from two and a half to four inches. They
feed, grow, and fatten in fresh water. In small rivers
they are seldom very large ; but in large deep lakes they
become as thick as a man's arm, or even leg ; and all
those of a considerable size attempt to return to the sea
in October or November, probably when they experience
the cold of the first autumnal rains. Those that are not
of the largest size, as I said before, pass the winter in
the deepest parts of the mud of rivers and lakes, and do
not seem to eat much, and remain, I believe, almost
torpid. Their increase is not certainly known in any
given time, but must depend upon the quantity of their
food : but it is probable they do not become of the
largest size, from the smallest, in one or even two seasons;
but this, as well as many other particulars, can only
be ascertained by new observations and experiments.
Bloch states, that they grow slowly, and mentions, that
some had been kept in the same pond for fifteen years.
As very large eels, after having migrated, never return
to the river again, they must (for it cannot be supposed
that they all die immediately in the sea) remain in salt
water ; and there is great probability, that they are then
confounded with the conger, which is found of different
colours and sizes — from the smallest to the largest —
from a few ounces to one hundred pounds in weight.
The colour of the conger is generally paler than that of

CONGER EEL. 149

the eel ; but, in the Atlantic, it is said, that pale congers
are found on one side of the Wolf Rock, and dark ones
on the other. The conger has breathing tubes, which
are said not to be found in the other eel ; but to deter-
mine this would require a more minute examination
than has yet been made. Both the conger and common
eel have fringes along the air bladder, which are pro-
bably the ovaria ; and Sir E. Home thinks them herma-
phrodite, and that the spermatic vessels are close to the
kidneys. I hope this great comparative anatomist will
be able to confirm his views by new dissections, and
some chemical researches upon the nature of the fringes
and the supposed milt. If viviparous, and the fringes
contain the ova, one mother must produce tens of
thousands, the ova being remarkably small ; but it
appears more probable, that they are oviparous,"^ and
that they deposit their ova in parts of the sea near deep
basins, which remain warm in winter. This might be
ascertained by experiment, particularly on the coasts of
the Mediterranean. I cannot find, that they haunt the
Arctic ocean, which is probably of too low a temperature
to suit their feelings or habits ; and the Caspian and
the Black Sea are probably without them, from their
not being found in the Volga or Danube ; these, being
shallow seas, are perhaps too cold for them in winter.
From the time (April) that small eels begin to migrate,
it is probable that they are generated in winter ; and the
pregnant eels ought to be looked for in November,
December, and January. I opened one in December,
in which the fringes were abundant, but I did not

[* This opinion is in accordance with the latest and best observations,
according to which the appearance of the mature ovaries and of the
milts in the breeding season is so little different, that it is not easy to
distinguish between them.]

150 SALMONIA.

examine them under the microscope, or chemically, I
trust this curious problem will not remain much longer
unsolved.

EIGHTH DAY.
HALIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER— PHYSICUS.

SCENE — DOWNTON.

PoiET. — This is a beautiful day, and, I think, for fishing,
as well as for the enjoyment of the scenery, finer than
yesterday. The wind blows from the south, and is
balmy ; and though a few clouds are collecting, they are
not sufficiently dense to exclude the warmth of the sun ;
and, as lovers of the angle, we ought to prefer his warmth
to his light.

Hal. — I do not think, as the day advances, there will
be any deficiency of light ; and I shall not be sorry for
this, as it will enable you to see the grounds of Downton,
and the distances in the landscape, to more advantage :
nor will light interfere much with our sport in this
valley, where, as you see, there is no want of shade.

PoiET. — This spot is really very fine. The fall of
water, the picturesque mill, the abrupt cliff, and the
bank, covered with noble oaks, above the river, compose
a scene such as I have rarely beheld in this island.

Hal. — We will wander a little longer through the
walks. There you w^ill enter a subterraneous passage
in the rock beyond the m.ossy grotto. Behold, the
castle, or mansion-house, clothed in beautiful veget-
ables, of which the red creeper is most distinct, rises

SCENERY. 151

above on the hill ! After we have finished our walk
and our fishing, I will, if you please, take you to the
house, and introduce you to its worthy master, whom
to know is to love, to whom all good anglers should be
grateful, and who has a strong claim to a more extensive
gratitude — that of his country and of society — by his
scientific researches on vegetable nature, which are not
merely curious, but useful, and which have already led
to great improvements in our fruits and plants, and
generally extended the popularity of horticulture.

Phys. — We shall be much obliged to you for the
favour — provided always, you know it will not be an
intrusion.

Hal. — Trust this to me. And now, as all circum-
stances are favourable, begin your fishing. I recom-
mend to you that fine pool below the bridge ; there are
always grayling to be caught there — and already I see
some rising.

Phys. — With what imitation of flies shall we fish ?

Hal. — As yesterday ; a yellow fly for your stretcher,
and two duns for the droppers. There, you have a good
fish. And now another — both grayling.

Phys. — I shall try the rapid at the top of this long
large pool ; I see several fish rising there.

Hal. — Do so. You will catch fish there — trout; but
I fear no grayling.

Phys.— Why not?

Hal. — In that part of the stream the water is too
rough for grayling, and they like to be nearer the deep
water. Lower down, in the same pool, there are large
grayling to be caught.

Phys. — You are in the right; the fish I have is a
large trout — at least he is not much less than 2 lbs. I
have landed him ; shall I keep him ?

152 SALMONIA.

Hal. — As you please : he is as good as he ever was,
or ever will be in this water.

Phys. — There are now more yellow flies out than I
have seen before this season. They have appeared
suddenly, as if sprung from that large alder. Though
you gave us in a former conversation some account of
the flies used in fishing, yet I hope you have not forgot
your promise, to favour us with some more details on
this subject, which, both as connected with angling, and
with a curious part of natural history is very interesting.

Hal. — I wish it was in my power to give you infor-
mation from my own experience, but, I am sorry to say,
this has been very limited ; and though the English are
peculiarly the fly fishing nation, yet our philosophical
anglers have not contributed much to this department
of science, and what has been done is principally by
foreigners, amongst whom Swammerdam, Reaumur,
and above all, De Geer are pre-eminent. To attempt
to collect and apply the knowledge accumulated by
these celebrated men, would carry us far beyond the
limits of a day's conversation ; and as a great proportion
of the insects that fly, walk, or crawl, are the food of
fishes, a dissertation, or discourse on this subject, would
be ahnost a general view of natural histor}^ You know
that frogs, crawfish, snails, earthworms, spiders, larvae of
every kind, millipedes, beetles, squillse, moths, water
flies, and land flies, are all eaten by trout ; and I once
heard the late Sir Joseph Banks say, that he found a
large toad stuck in the throat of a trout ; but as the
skin of this animal is furnished with an exceedingly
acrid secretion, it probably had been disgorged after
being swallowed by a fish exceedingly hungry. But
though I have found most of the insect tribes, and many
small fishes, even of the most ravenous kind, as pike, in

NATURAL HISTORY— INSECTS. 153

the stomachs of trout, it never happened to me to see a
toad there. I might give you an account of the birth
and Hfe of frogs, which, with respect to their generation,
resemble fish, and which, when first excluded from the
egg, may be considered in the tadpole state as fish; and
you would not find their singular metamorphosis with-
out interest. Or I could detail to you the true histories
which naturalists have given of the habits of snails and
earthworms, and of the loves of these apparently
contemptible animals. Even the renewing or change
of shell in the crawfish, when it falls in its soft state an
easy prey to fish, is a curious subject not only for the
physiologist, but likewise for the chemist. But on these
points, I must request you to refer to writers on Natural
History : yet I shall perform my promise, and say a few
words on winged insects, which, in their origin and
metamorphosis, offer the most extraordinary known
miracles perhaps of terrestrial natures. You must be
acquainted with the origin of our common house flies ?

Phys. — -We know, that they spring from maggots,
and that both the common and blue bottle fly deposit
their ova in putrid animal matter, where the eggs are
hatched and produce maggots, that, after feeding upon
the decomposing animal material, gradually change,
gain a hard or horny coat, seem as if entombed, and
wait in a kind of apparent death or slumber, till they
are mature for a new birth, when they burst their coat-
ings and appear in the character of novel beings — fitted
to inhabit another element.

Hal. — The history of the birth and metamorphosis
of all other winged insects is very similar, but with
peculiarities dependent upon their organs, wants, and
habits. You know the curious details with which we
have been furnished by natural historians of bees and

154 SALMONIA.

ants, which live in a kind of societ3^ The ant flies, of
which, as I mentioned to you, imitations are sometimes
used by fishermen, were originally maggots, and became
furnished with wings — not, however, passing through
the aurelia state for this last transformation.

PoiET. — I beg your pardon, but, having lately read
an account of these animals in the very interesting
book, called "An Introduction to Entomology," I think
I can correct you in one particular ; which is, that the
maggot of the ant does assume the form of a chrysalis or
pupa, before it becomes a winged animal.

Hal. — It is true, that the immediate transition of the
maggot is into a pupa, then into an ant, which is
furnished with a kind of case, from which the wings
emerge for their perfect transformation into the fly or
imago state.

PoiET.~You are perfectly right; and though it would
be irrelevant to our present object, I could almost wish,
for the sake of amusing our friends, that you would
detail to us some other parts of the marvellous history
of these wonderful animals, which, if not so well
authenticated, might be supposed a philosophical ro-
mance. Such as the neuter or working ants feeding
each other and the offspring; the manner in which
they make, defend, and repair their dwellings, provide
their food, watch and attend to the female, and take
care of her eggs ; their extraordinary mode of acquiring
and defending the aphides and cocci, which bear to
them the same relation that cattle do to man, which
are fed by them with so much care, and the milk of
which forms so important a part of their food : the pre-
datory excursions of a particular species to carry off
pupa, which they bring up as slaves.

Hal. — To enter into any of the details of the history

LIBELLULA. 155

of insects in society, would carry us into an inter-
minable, though interesting subject, that would soon
lose all relation to fly fishing ; and I fear what I have
to say, even on the winged insects connected with this
amusement, will occupy too much of your time, for we
have not more than an hour to devote to this object.

PoiET. — Tell us what you please ; we are attentive.

Hal. — The various individuals of the gryllus, or
grasshopper tribe, spring from larvae, that do not differ
much from the perfect insect, except in possessing no
wings. The eggs are deposited in our meadows, and
many species of this animal are gregarious, and their
immigrations in swarms are well known. The butterfly
and moths, as you know, lay eggs which produce cater-
pillars, and these caterpillars, after feeding upon vege-
table food, spin themselves, or frame houses or beds,
cocoons, in which they are transformed into aurelias,
and from which they burst forth as perfect winged in-
sects. The libellula, or dragon-fly, the most voracious
of the winged insect tribe, deposits her eggs in such a
manner, that the larvae fall into the water, and, after
destroying and feeding upon almost all the aquatic in-
sects found in this element, and changing their skins at
various times, they emerge in their winged form the
tyrants of the insect generations in the air. The gnats
and tipulae have a similar existence. The gnat, the
female of which only is said by De Geer to bite man,
or suck human blood, in Sweden, lays her Ggg in a
kind of little boat or cocoon of her own spinning.
These eggs are hatched on the surface of the water, and
produce the larvae, which undergo another change into
peculiar nymphae, that still retain the power of swim-
ming and moving, from which the perfect insect is pro-
duced during the summer heat. The flies, which I

166 SALMONIA.

mentioned to you in a former conversation, under the
name of the grannom, or green tail, {see Jig, 2,) are of
the class phryganece, which includes all those water flies
that have long antennae, and wings something like those
of moths, but usually veined and without powder. The
yellow flies, which you saw a short time since sporting
on the banks of the river, are of this kind. The phry-
ganese (see Jig, 1, 2, 3, and 4,) have four wings, which,
when closed, lie flat on their backs, the two upper ones
being folded over the lower ones : the flies called by
anglers the willow fly, the alder fly, {see Jig, 4,) and the
dun cut, are of this kind. The phryganeae lay their eggs
on the leaves of willows, or other trees, that overhang
the water; they are fastened by a sort of gluten to the
surface of the leaf; when hatched, they produce small
hexapode larvae, which fall into the water, and by a cu-
rious economy of nature, collect round themselves, some,
parts of plants or small sticks ; some, gravel ; and some,
even shell fish. They spin themselves a sort of case of
silk from their bodies, and by a gluten, that exudes from
this case, cement their materials together. They feed
upon aquatic plants, and sometimes upon insects, pro-
truding only their head and legs from the case. When
about to undergo transmutation, they quit their cases,
rise to the surface, and wait for this process of nature in
the air ; but some species fix themselves on plants or
stones : they burst the skin of the larvae, and appear
perfect animals, male and female, of full size, and powers.
In the early spring, the species which are called green
tails, from the colour of the bags of eggs in the female,
appear in the warm gleams of sunshine, that happen
in cloudy days, and they then cover the face of the
water, and are greedily seized on by the fish. As
the season advances, they appear principally in the

I'LATK. i

FLATK -d

EPHF/MEILE viJth tkeik imita'i i()>^s

*'n

N

PLATE. ,3

KPIIKMEIiE WITH

■I'M KIR 1MITATICN«

EPHEMERA. 157

morning and evening. In the heat of summer, the
phrjganese are almost nocturnal flies, and seem to have
the habits of moths : at this season, now, I should say,
the few flies that appear are generally seen in the day-
time. The ephemerce, another class of flies peculiarly
interesting to the fisherman, differ from the phryganeae
in carrying their wings perpendicularly on their backs,
and in having long filaments or hairs in their tails. The
March brown, {see Jig. 8,) the various shades of duns,
{see Jig. 5, 6, and 7,) which I described to you on a for-
mer occasion ; the green {see Jig. 9 and 10,) and white
May fly, the red spinner, {see Jig. 11,) are all of the class
ephemerae. These flies are produced from larvae which
inhabit the water, which can both crawl and swim, and
which generally live in holes they make in the bottom.
They change their coats several times before they be-
come nymphae. They quit their skin on the surface of
the water, but even after they are flies, they have ano-
ther transformation to undergo before they are perfect.
They make use of their wings only to fly to some dry
bank, or trunk of a tree, where they gradually disen-
cumber themselves of the whole of the outward habili-
ment they brought from the water, including their
wings. They become lighter, more beautiful in colour,
and then begin their sports in the sunshine — appearing
like what might be imagined of spirits freed from the
weight of their terrestrial covering. This last transmu-
tation has been observed and fully described by some
celebrated naturalists, in the case of the May flies, and
one or two other species, and it probably will be found
a general circumstance attached to the class ! I have
often observed what appeared to me to be the cast-off
skins of the small species of ephemerae on the banks of
rivers and floating in the water. The green ephemera,

158 SALMONIA.

or May fly, lays her eggs sitting on the water, which
instantly sink to the bottom : and most of the duns,
or small slender-winged flies, do the same. The gray
or glossy-winged May-fly, commonly called the gray
drake, performs regular motions in the air above the
water, rising and falling, and sitting, as it were, for a
moment on the surface, and rising again, at which time
she is said to deposit her eggs. To attempt to describe
all the variety of ephemeras, that sport on the surface of
the water at difl'erent times of the day, throughout the
year, would be quite an endless labour. Some of them
appear to live only a few hours, and none of them, I
believe, have their existence protracted to more than
a few days. In spring and autumn a new variety of
these flies sometimes appears every day, or even in dif-
ferent parts of the same day. Of the beetle, or cole-
optera genus, there are many varieties fed on by
fishes. These insects, w^hich are distinguished, as you
know, by four wings, two husky-like shells above, and
two slender and finer ones below, are bred from eggs,
which they deposit in the ground, or in the dung of
animals, and which, producing larvae in the usual way,
are converted into beetles, and these larvae themselves
are good bait for fish. The brown beetle, or cockchaf-
fer, the fern fly, and the gray beetle, w^iich are abund-
ant in the meadows in the summer, are often blown into
the water, and are the most common insects of this kind
eaten by fishes. Whether the ditisci and hydrophili,
the water beetles, are ever eaten by trout, I know not,
but it is most probable. These singular animals are
most commonly found in stagnant waters; fitted for
flying, swimming, diving, and walking, they are omni-
vorous, and usually fly from pool to pool in the evening.
They deposit their eggs in the water, where their larvae

ENTOMOLOGY. 159

live, but which, to undergo transmutation into the
beetle, migrate to the land. But there is hardly any insect
that flies, including the wasp, the hornet, the bee, and
the butterfly, that does not become at some time the
pre}^ of fishes. I have not, however, the knowledge, or
if I had^ have not the time, to go through the lists of
these interesting little animals ; but of the family of one
of them 1 must speak — the ichneumons, that deposit their
eggs in caterpillars, or the larvae of other flies, and which
feed on the unfortunate animal on which they are
hatched, and come out of its interior when dead, as if it
had been their parent. To enter into the philosophy of
this subject, and to study the organs and faculties of
these various insect tribes, in their functions of respira-
tion, nutrition, and reproduction, would be sufficient for
the labour of a life. To know what has already been
done would demand the close and studious application
of a comprehensive mind ; and to complete this branch
of science in all its parts, is probably almost above hu-
man powers : but much might be done if enlightened
persons would follow the example of De Geer, Reau-
mur, and Iluber, and study minutely the habits of par-
ticular tribes ; and it is probable, that physiology might
be much advanced by minutely investigating the sim-
plest forms of living beings, and that particularly with
respect to the functions of reproduction : a minute study
of the modifications of which the forms of animals seem
susceptible, particular!}^ in the hymenopterous, or bee
tribe, might lead to very important results.

PoiET. — Even in a moral point of view, I think the
analogies derived from the transformation of insects ad-
mit of some beautiful applications, that have not been
neglected by pious entomologists. The three states —
of the caterpillar, pupa, or aurelia, and butterfly — have.

160 SALMONIA.

since the time of the Greek poets, been applied to ty-
pify the human being — its terrestrial form, apparent
death, and ultimate celestial destination ; and it seems
more extraordinary that a sordid and crawling worm
should become a beautiful and active fly — that an in-
habitant of the dark and fetid dunghill should, in an
instant, entirely change its form, rise into the blue air,
and enjoy the sunbeams, — than that a being, whose pur-
suits here have been after an undying name, and whose
purest happiness has been derived from the acquisition
of intellectual power and finite knowledge, should rise
hereafter into a state of being, where immortality is no
longer a name, and ascend to the source of Unbounded
Power and Infinite Wisdom.

PiiYS. — I have been listening, Halieus, to ^^our ac-
count of water-flies with attention, and I only regret,
that your details were not more copious ; let me now
call your attention to that Michaelmas daisy. A few
minutes ago, before the sun sunk behind the hill, its
flowers were covered with varieties of bees, and some
wasps, all busy in feeding on its sweets. I never saw a
more animated scene of insect enjoyment. The bees
were most of them humble-bees, some new to me, and
the wasps appeared different from any I have seen before.

Hal, — I believe this is one of the last autumnal
flowers that insects of this kind haunt. In sunny days
it is their constant point of resort, and it would aflFord a
good opportunity to the entomologist to make a col-
lection of British bees.

PoiET. — I neither hear the hum of the bee, nor can
I see any on its flowers. They are now deserted.

Phys. — Since the sun has disappeared, the cool of
the evening has, I suppose, driven the little winged
plunderers to their homes ; but see, there are two or

ENTOxMOLOGY. 161

three humble bees which seem languid with the cold,
and yet they have their tongues still in the fountain of
honey. I believe one of them is actually dead, yet his
mouth is still attached to the flower. He has fallen
asleep, and probably died whilst making his last meal of
ambrosia.

Orn. — What an enviable destiny, quitting life in the
moment of enjoyment, following an instinct, the grati-
fication of which has been always pleasurable ! so bene-
ficent are all the laws of Divine Wisdom.

Phys. — Like Ornither, I consider the destiny of this
insect as desirable, and I cannot help regarding the end
of human life as most happy, when terminated under
the impulse of some strong energetic feeling, similar in
its nature to an instinct. I should not wish to die like
Attila; but the death of Epaminondas or Nelson in the
arms of victory, their w^hole attention absorbed in the
love of glory and of their country, I think really
enviable.

PoiET. — I consider the death of the martyr or the
saint as far more enviable ; for in this case, w^hat may be
considered as a divine instinct of our nature, is called
into exertion, and pain is subdued, or destro^^ed, by a
secure faith in the power and mercy of the Divinity,
In such cases man rises above mortality, and shows his
true intellectual superiority. By intellectual supe-
riority I mean that of his spiritual nature, for I do not
consider the results of reason as capable of being com-
pared with those of faith. Reason is often a dead
weight in life, destroying feeling, and substituting, for
principle, calculation and caution ; and, in the hour of
death, it often produces fear or despondency, and is
rather a bitter draught, than nectar or ambrosia in the
last meal of life.

162 SALMON I A.

Hal. — I agree with Poietes. The higher and more
intense the feehng, under which death takes place,
the happier it may be esteemed ; and I think even
Physicus will be of our opinion, when I recollect the
conclusion of a conversation in Scotland. The im-
mortal being never can quit life with so much pleasure
as with the feeling of immortality secure, and the vision
of celestial glory filling the mind, affected by no other
passion than the pure and intense love of God.

NINTH DAY.

HA LIEUS— POIETES— ORNITHER—PHYSICU S.

FISHING FOR HUCHO.

SCENE — THE FALL OF THE TRAUN, UPPER AUSTRIA.

Time — July.

PoiET. — This is a glorious scene ! And the fall of this
great and clear river, with its accompaniments of wood,
rock, and snow-clad mountain, would alone furnish
matter for discussion and conversation for many days.
This place is quite the paradise of a poetical angler ;
the only danger is that of satiety with regard to sport ;
for these great grayling and trout are so little used to
the artificial fly, that they take almost any thing moving
on the top of the water. You see I have put on a
salmon fly, and still they rise at it, though they never
can have seen any thing like it before — and it is, in fact,
not like any thing in nature.

Hal. — You are right, they never have seen any thing
like it before ; but, in its motion, it is like a large fly,

HEREDITARY INSTINCT. 163

and this is the season for large flies. The stone fly and
the May fly, you see, occasionally drop upon the water,
and the colour of your large fly is not unlike that of the
stone fly ; but if, instead of being here in the beginning
of July, you had visited this spot, as I once did, in the
beginning of June, you would have found more difficulty
in catching grayling here, though not so much as in our
English rivers — in the Test, the Derwent, or the Dove.

PoiET. — How could this be ?

Hal. — At this season the large flies had not yet ap-
peared; the small blue dun was on the water, and I
was obliged to use a fly the same as that which suits
our spring and late autumnal fishing. The fish refused
all large flies, but took greedily small ones ; and, as
usually happens when small flies are used, more fish
escaped after being hooked than were taken ; and these
I found, the next day, were become as sagacious as our
Dove or Test fish, and refused the artificial fly, though
they greedily took the natural fly.

Phys. — These fish, then, have the same habits as our
English salmons and trouts ?

Hal. — The principle to which I have referred in two
former conversations must be general, though it has
seemed to me, that they lost this memory sooner than
the fish of our English rivers, where fly-fishing is com-
mon. This, however, may be fancy, yet I have re-
ferred it to a kind of hereditary disposition, which has
been formed and transmitted from their progenitors.

Phys. — However strange it may appear, I can believe
this. When the early voyagers discovered new islands,
the birds upon them were quite tame, and easily killed
by sticks and stones, being fearless of man ; but they
soon learned to know their enemy, and this newly ac-
quired sagacity was possessed by their offspring, who

164 SALMONIA.

had never seen a man. Wild and domesticated ducks
are, in fact, from the same original type : it is only
necessary to compare them, when hatched together
under a hen, to be convinced of the principle of the
hereditary transmission of habits, — the w^ild young ones
instantly fly from man, the tame ones are indifferent to
his presence.

PoiET. — No one can be less disposed than I am to
limit the pov^ers of living nature, or to doubt the capa-
bilities of organized structures ; but it does appear to
me quite a dream, to suppose that a fish, pricked by the
hook of the artificial fly, should transmit a dread of it
to its offspring, though he does not even long retain the
memory of it himself.

Hal, — There are instances quite as extraordinary —
but I will not dwell upon them, as I am not quite sure
of the fact which we are discussing; I have made a
guess only, and we must observe more minutely to
establish it ; it ma}^ be even as you suppose — a mere
dream.

PoiET. — I shall go and look at the fall : I am really
satiated with sport ; this is the twentieth fish I have
taken in an hour, and it is a grayling of at least seven-
teen inches long ; and there is a trout of eighteen, and
several salmon trout, which look as if they had run
from the sea.

Hal. — These salmon trout have run from a sea, but
not from a salt sea ; they are fish of the Traun See, as
it is called by the Germans, or Traun Lake, which is
emptied by this river.

Phys. — Tell us why they are so different from the
river trout, or why there should be two species or varie-
ties in the same water.

Hal. — Your question is a difficult one, and it has

SALMO IIUCHO. 165

already been referred to in a former conversation ; bat
I shall repeat what I stated before, — that qualities oc-
casioned by food, peculiarities of water^ &c,, are trans-
mitted to the offspring, and produce varieties which
retain their characters as long as they are exposed to
the same circumstances, and only slowly lose them.
Plenty of good food gives a silvery colour and round
form to fish, and the offspring retain these characters.
Feeding much on larvae and on shell-fish thickens the
stomach, and gives a brighter yellow to the belly and
fins, which become hereditary characters. Even these
smallest salmon trout have green backs, only black
spots, and silvery belUes ; from which it is evident, that
they are the offspring of lake trout, or laclis forelle, as
it is called by the Germans ; whilst the river trout, even
when 4 or 5 lbs., as we see in one of these fish, though
in excellent season, have red spots. — But why that ex-
clamation?

PoiET. — What an immense fish ! There he is !

Hal. — I see nothing.

PoiET. — At the edge of the pool, below the fall, I
saw a fish, at least two or three feet long, rising with
great violence in the water, as if in the pursuit of small
fish ; and at the same time I saw two or three minnows
or bleaks jump out of the water. What fish is it? — a
trout ? It appeared to me too long and too slender for
a trout, and had more the character of a pike ; — yet
it followed, and did not, like a pike, make a single dart.

Hal. — I see him; it is neither a pike nor a trout,
but a fish which I have been some time hoping and ex-
pecting to see here, below the fall — a salmo hucho, or
huchen. I am delighted, that you have an opportunitv
of seeing this curious fish, and of observing his habits.
I hope we shall catch him.

166 SALMONIA.

PoiET. Catch him ! we have no tackle strong
enough.

Hal. — I am surprised to hear a salmon fisher talk so;
yet he is too large to take a fly, and must be trolled for.
We must spin a bleak for him, or small fish, as we do
for the trout of the Thames or the salmon of the Ta3%
Ornither, you understand the arrangement of this kind
of tackle — look out in my book the strongest set of
spinning hooks you can find, and suppl}^ them with a
bleak ; and whilst I am changing the reel, I will give
you all the information (which, I am sorry to say, is not
much) that I have been able to collect respecting this
fish from my own observation or the experience of
others. The hucho is the most predatory fish of the
salmo genus, and is made like an ill-fed trout, but longer
and thicker. He has larger teeth, more spines in the
pectoral fin, a thicker skin, a silvery bell}^, and dark
spots only on the back and sides — I have never seen
any on the fins. The ratio of his length to his girth is
as 8 to 18, or, in well fed fish, as 9 to 20 ; and a fish,
18 inches long by 8 in girth, weighed 16,215 grains.
Another, 2 feet long, 11 inches in girth, and 3 inches
thick, weighed 4 lbs. 2\ oz. Another, 26 inches long,
weighed 5 lbs. 5 oz. Of the spines in the fins, the anal
has 9, the caudal 20, the ventral 9, the dorsal 12, the
pectoral 17 : having numbered the spines in many, I
give this as correct. The fleshy fin belonging to the
genus is, I think, larger in this species than in any I
have seen. Bloch, in his work on fishes, states that
there are black spots on all the fins, with the exception
of the anal, as a character of this fish : and Professor
Wagner informs me he has seen huchos with this pecu-
liarity ; but, as I said before, I never saw any fish with
spotted fins — yet I have examined those of the Danube,

SALMO IIUCHO. 167

Save, Drave, Mur, and Izar : perhaps this is peculiar to
some stream in Bavaria — yet the huchos in the collec-
tion at Munich have it not. The hucho is found in
most rivers tributary to the Danube — in the Save and
Laybach rivers always ; yet the general opinion is, that
they run from the Danube twice a-year, in spring and
autumn. I can answer for their migration in spring,
having caught several in April, in streams connected
with the Save and Laybach rivers, which had evidently
come from still dead water into the clear running
streams, for they had the winter leech, or louse of the
trout upon them : and I have seen them of all sizes, in
April, in the market at Labach, from six inches to two
feet long ; but they are found much larger, and reach
30, or even 40, pounds. It is the opinion of some
naturalists, that it is only a fresh-water fish ; yet this I
doubt, because it is never found beyond certain falls —
as in the Traun, the Drave, and the Save ; and, there
can be no doubt, comes into these rivers from the
Danube ; and probably, in its largest state, is a fish of
the Black Sea. Yet it can winter in fresh water ; and
does not seem, like the salmon, obliged to haunt the
sea, but falls back into the warmer waters of the great
rivers, from which it migrates in spring, to seek a cooler
temperature and to breed. The fishermen at Gratz say
they spawn in the Mur, between March and May. In
those I have caught at Laybach, which, however, were
small ones, the ova were not sufficiently developed to
admit of their spawning that spring. Marsigli says,
that they spawn in the Danube in June. You have
seen how violently they pursue their prey : I have never
taken one without fish in his stomach ; yet, when small,
they will take a fly. In the Kleingraben, which is a
feeder to the Laybach river, and where they are found

168 SALMONIA.

of all sizes — from 20 lbs. downwards — the little ones
take a fly, but the large ones are too ravenous to care
about so insignificant a morsel, and prey like the largest
trout, often hunting in company, and chasing the small
fish into the narrow and shallow streams, and then de-
vouring them. — But I see your tackle is ready. As a
more experienced angler in this kind of fishing, you
will allow me to try my fortune with this fish. I still
see him feeding ; but I must keep out of sight, for he
has all the timidity peculiar to the salmo genus, and, if
he catch sight of me, will certainly not run at the bait.

Orn. — You spin the bleak for him, I see, as for a
great trout. O ! there ! he has run at it — and you have
missed him. What a fish ! You surely were too quick,
for he sprang out of the water at the bleak.

Hal. — I was not too quick ; but he rose just as the
bleak was on the surface, and saw me ; and now he is
frightened, and gone down into the deep water. We
must retire till we, see him feeding again, which will be,
I hope, in a few minutes, for his violence shows that he
is not yet satisfied.

PoiET. — I think I saw him moving in another part
of the pool : it is now ten minutes since we saw
him last.

Hal. — You are right; he is again on the feed, and
in a place where we have a better chance of hooking
him, as the water is deeper and in the shade. He has
run again at the bleak, but only as it shone on the sur-
face— but he is not frightened. Ah ! he has taken it,
and is floundering and struggling ! He is a powerful
fish.

Orn. — He fights well, and runs towards the side
where the rock is.

Hal.— Take the net and frighten him from that

TAKING A SALMO HUCHO. 169

place, which is the only one where there is danger
of losing him. He is clear now, and begins to tire, and
in a few minutes more he will be exhausted. — Now
land him,

PoiET. — A noble fish ! But how like a trout — ex-
actly like a sea-trout in whiteness, and I think in spots.

Hal. — He is much narrower, or less broad, as you z^, -^\ i
would immediately discover, if you had a sea-trout here.

V

\ ■-'

But now we must try another pool, or the tail of this; '--J. ' ^

that fish was not alone, and at the moment he took the:' >/^ "^ -
bait, I think I saw the water move from the stir of '^ ' '^-- 50 q
another. Take your rod and fit your own tackle, 'A ^
Ornither ; half the glory of catching this fish is yours,
as you prepared ihe hooks. I see you are in earnest ;
the blood mounts in your face. Oh ! oh ! Ornither !
you have pulled with too much violence, and broken
your tackle. Alas ! alas ! the fish you hooked was the
consort of mine : he will not take again.

Orn. — The gut was bad, for I do not think I struck
too violently. What a loss ! How hard, to let the first
fish of the kind I ever angled for escape me !

Hal. — There are probably more : try again.

Orn. — Behold! the loss was more owing to the im-
perfection of the tackle than to my ardour; for the
two end hooks only are gone, and you may see the
gut worn.

Hal. — The thing is done, and is not worth comment.
If you can, let the next fish that rises hook himself.
When we are ardent, we are bad judges of the effort we
make ; and an angler, who could be cool with a new
species of salmo, I should not envy. Now all is right
again : try that pool. There is a fish — ay ! and another,
that runs at your bait; but they are small ones, not
much jnore than twice as large as the bleak; yet they

VOL. IX. I

170 SALMONIA.

show their spirit, and though they cannot swallow it,
they have torn it. Put on another bleak. There ! you
have another run.

Orn. — Ay, it is a small fish, not much more than a
foot long ; yet he fights well.

Hal. — You have him, and I will land him. I do not
think such a fish a bad initiation into this kind of sport.
He does not agitate so much as a larger one, and yet
gratifies curiosity. There we have him. A very
beautiful fish; yet he has the leech or louse, though
his belly is quite white.

Orn. — This fish is so like a trout, that, had I caught
him when alone, I should hardly have remarked his
peculiarities ; and I am not convinced, that it is not a
variety of the common trout, altered, in many genera-
tions, by the predatory habits of his ancestors.

Hal. — How far the principle of change of character
and transmission of such character to the offspring will
apply, I shall not attempt to determine, and whether all
the varieties of the salmo with teeth in their mouth may
not have been produced from one original ; yet this fish
is now as distinct from the trout, as the char or the umbla
is ; and in Europe, it exists only below great falls in
streams connected with the Danube, and is never found in
rivers of the same districts connected with the Rhine,
Elbe, or which empty themselves into the Mediter-
ranean ; though trout are common in all these streams,
and salmon and sea- trout in those connected with the
ocean. According to the descriptions of Pallas, it
occurs in the rivers of Siberia, and probably exists in
those that run into the Caspian ; and it is remarkable,
that it is not found where the eel is usual — at least this
applies to all the tributary streams of the Danube, and,
it is said, to the rivers of Siberia. Wherever I have

SALMO HUCHO. 171

seen it, there have been alwa^^s coarse fish — as chub,
white fish, bleak, &c., and rivers containing such fish are
its natural haunts, for it requires abundance of food,
and serves to convert these indifferent poor fish into a
better kind of nourishment for man. We will now ex-
amine the interior of these fish. You see the stomach
is larger than that of a trout, and the stomachs of both
are full of small fish. In the larger one there is a chub,
a grayling, a bleak, and two or three small carp. The
skin you see is thick ; the scales are smaller than those
of a trout ; it has no teeth on the palate, and the pec-
toral fin has four spines more, which, I think, enables it
to turn with more rapidity. You will find at dinner,
that fried or roasted, he is a good fish. His flesh is
white, but not devoid of curd ; and though rather softer
than that of a trout, I have never observed in it that
muddiness, or peculiar flavour, which sometimes occurs
in trout, even when in perfect season.

I shall say a few words more on the habits of this
fish. The hucho, as you have seen, preys with great
violence, and pursues his object as a foxhound or a grey-
hound does. I have seen them in repose : they lie like
pikes, perfectly still, and I have watched one for many
minutes, that never moved at all. In this respect their
habits resemble those of most carnivorous and predatory
animals. It is probably in consequence of these habits,
that they are so much infested by lice, or leeches, which
I have seen so numerous in spring as almost to fill their
gills, and interfere with their respiration, in which case
they seek the most rapid and turbulent streams to free
themselves from these enemies. They are very shy,
and after being hooked avoid the baited line. I once
saw a hucho, for which I was fishing, follow the small
fish, and then the lead of the tackle ; it seemed as if this

i2

172 'SALMONIA.

had fixed his attention, and he never offered at the bait
afterwards. I think a hucho, that has been pricked by
the hook, becomes particularly cautious, and possesses,
in this respect, the same character as the salmon. In
summer, when they are found in the roughest and most
violent currents, their fins (particularly the caudal fin)
often appear worn and broken ; at this season they are
usually in constant motion against the stream, and are
stopped by no cataract or dam, unless it be many feet in
height, and quite inaccessible. In the middle of Sep-
tember I have caught huchos perfectly clean in rapid
cool streams, tributary to the La^^bach and the Sava
rivers ; and, from the small development of their ovaria
at this time, I have no doubt that they spawn in spring.
On the 13th of September, 1828, I caught, by spinning
the dead small fish, three huchos, that had not a single
leech upon their bodies, and they were the first fish of
the kind I ever saw free from these parasites.

Orn. — I am so much pleased with my good fortune
in catching this fish, that I shall try all day to-morrow
vvdth the bait, for more of the same kind.

Hal. — You may do so ; but many of these fish cannot
be caught ; they migrate generally when the water is
foul, and, except in the spring and autumn, do not so
readily run at the bait. I was once nearly a month
seeking for one in rivers in which they are found,
between the end of June and that of July, without
being able to succeed in even seeing one alive ; and as
far as my information goes, the two places where there
is most probability of taking them, are at Laybach and
Ratisbon, in the tributary streams to the Sava, and in
the Danube ; and the best time, in the first of these
situations, is in March and April, and in the second, in
May. I am told, likewise, that the Izar, which runs by

ANGLING. 173

Munich, is a stream where they may be caught, when
the water is clear : but I have never fished in this
stream — it having been foul, either from rain, or the
melting of the snows, whenever I have been at Munich;
but I have seen in the fish-market at Munich very large
huchos. Late in the autumn, or in early spring, this
river must be an interesting one to fish in, as the schill,
or perca lucio perca, and three other species of perca are
found in it — the zingel, the apron, and the perca schratz
— all fish of prey, and excellent food. I have eaten
them, but never taken them ; they are rare in European
rivers, though not, like the hucho, peculiar to the
tributary streams of the Danube. The schill is found
likewise in the Sprey and in the Hungarian lakes, and,
according to Bloch, the zingel in the Rhone.

PoiET. — I should like extremely to fish in the Izar :
it is, I think, a new kind of pleasure to take a new kind
of fish, even though it is not unknown to Natural His-
torians. But the most exquisite kind of angling, in my
opinion, w^ould be that of angling in a river never fished
in by Europeans before ; and I can scarcely imagine
sport of a higher kind than that which involves a triple
source of pleasure — catching a fish, procuring good food
for the table, and making a discovery in Natural His-
tory, at the same time. Sir Joseph Banks, who was
always a great amateur of angling, had often this kind
of gratification. And to Captain Franklin and Dr.
Richardson, in their expedition to the Arctic Ocean,
when they were almost starving, what a delightful cir-
cumstance it must have been, to have taken with a fly
those large grayling, which they mention, of a new
species, equally beautiful in their appearance, and good
for the table !

Hal. — When a boy, I have felt an interest in sea-

174 SALMONIA.

fishing, for this reason — that there was a variety of fish ;
but the want of skill in the amusement — sinking a bait
with a lead and pulling up a fish by main force, soon
made me tired of it. Since I have been a fly-fisher, I
have rarely fished in the sea, and then only with a reel
and fine tackle from the rocks, which is at least as inte-
resting an amusement as that of the Cockney fishermen,
who fish for roach and dace in the Thames, which I
have tried twice in my life, but shall never try again.

Phys. — You are severe on Cockney fishermen, and,
I suppose, would apply to them only, the observation of
Dr. Johnson, which on a former occasion you would not
allow to be just: "Angling is an amusement with a
stick and a string ; a worm at one end, and a fool at the
other." And to yourself you would apply it with this
change : " a fly at one end, and a philosopher at the
other." Yet the pleasure of the Cockney Angler ap-
pears to me of much the same kind, and perhaps more
continuous than yours ; and he has the happiness of
constant occupation and perpetual pursuit in as high a
degree as you have ; and if we were to look at the real
foundations of your pleasure, we should find them, like
most of the foundations of human happiness — vanity or
folly. I shall never forget the impression made upon
me some years ago, when I was standing on the pier at
Donegal, watching the flowing of the tide : I saw a
lame boy of fourteen or fifteen years old, very slightly
clad, that some persons were attempting to stop in his
progress along the pier ; but he resisted them with his
crutches, and, halting along, threw himself from an ele-
vation of five or six feet, with his crutches, and a little
parcel of wooden boats, that he carried under his arm,
on the sand of the beach. He had to scramble or halt
at least 100 yards, over hard rocks, before he reached

AMUSEMENTS. 175

the water, and he several times fell down and cut his
naked limbs on the bare stones. Being in the water, he
seemed in an ecstacy, and immediately put his boats in
sailing order, and was perfectly inattentive to the
counsel and warning of the spectators, who shouted to
him, that he would be drowned. His whole attention
was absorbed by his boats. He had formed an idea,
that one should outsail the rest, and when this boat was
foremost he was in delight ; but if any one of the others
got beyond it he howled with grief; and once I saw him
throw his crutch at one of the unfavoured boats. The
tide came in rapidly — he lost his crutches, and would
have been drowned, but for the care of some of the
spectators : he was however wholly inattentive to any
thing save his boats. He is said to be quite insane and
perfectly ungovernable, and will not live in a house, or
wear any clothes, and his whole life is spent in this one
business — making and managing a fleet of wooden
boats, of which he is sole admiral. How near this mad
youth is to a genius, a hero, or to an angler, who injures
his health and risks his life by going into the water as
high as his middle, in the hope of catching a fish which
he sees rise, though he already has a pannier full.

Hal. — Or a statesman, working by all means, fair
and foul, to obtain a blue riband. Or a fox-hunter,
risking his neck to see the hounds destroy an animal,
which he preserves to be destroyed, and which is good
for nothing. Or an aged, licentious voluptuary, using
all the powers of a high and cultivated intellect to
destroy the innocence of a beautiful virgin — for a
transient gratification to render her miserable, and by
making a flaw in an inestimable and brilliant gem,
utterly to destroy its value.

176 SALMONIA.

Phys. — You might go on and cite almost all the
objects of pursuit of rational beings, as, by distinction,
they are called. But to return to your favourite amuse-
ment. I wonder that, with such a passion for angling,
you have never made an expedition in one of our
w^halers — with Captain Scoresby, for instance: you
would then have enjoyed sport of a new kind.

Hal. — I should like much to see a whale taken, but
I do not think the sight w^orth the dangers and priva-
tions of such a voyage. It would only be an amusing
spectacle, and not an enterprise, unless, indeed, I em-
ployed myself the harpoon ; and, after all, it must be a
tedious operation, that of watching the sinking and
rising of a fish, obedient to a natural instinct, which, in
this instance, is the cause of his death.

PoiET. — How ?

Hal. — The whale, having no air bladder, can sink to
the lowest depths of the ocean, and, mistaking the har-
poon for the teeth of a sword-fish or a shark, he in-
stantly descends, this being his manner of freeing him-
self from these enemies, who cannot bear the pressure
of a deep ocean, and from ascending and descending in
small space, he puts himself in the power of the whaler ;
whereas, if he knew his force, and were to swim on the
surface in a straight line, he would break or destroy
the machinery, by which he is arrested, as easily as a
salmon breaks the single gut of a fisher, when his reel is
entangled.

PoiET. — My amusement in such a voyage, would be
to look for the kraken and the sea-snake.

Hal. — You have a vivid imagination, and might see

them.

PoiET. — Then you do not believe in the existence of
these wonderful animals ?

SEA SERPENT— KRAKEN. 177

Hal. — No more than I do in that of the merman or
mermaid.

PoiET. — Yet we have histories, which seem authentic,
of the appearance of these monsters ; and there are not
wanting persons who assert that they have seen the
mermaid even in these islands.

Hal. — I disbelieve the authenticity of these stories.
I do not mean to deny the existence of large marine
animals having analogies to the serpent ; the conger, we
know, is such an animal : I have seen one nearly ten
feet long, and there may be longer ones ; but such ani-
mals do not come to the surface. The only sea-snake
that has been examined by naturalists, turned out to be
a putrid species of shark — the squalus maximus. Yet all
the newspapers gave accounts of this as a real animal,
and endowed it with feet, which do not belong to ser-
pents. And the sea-snakes, seen by American and
Norwegian captains, have, I think, generally been a
company of porpoises, the rising and sinking of which,
in lines, w^ould give somewhat the appearance of the
coils of a snake. The kraken, or island fish, is still more
imaginary. I have myself seen immense numbers of
enormous urticcB marincEy or blubbers, in the north seas,
and in some of the Norwegian fiords^ or inland bays,
and often these beautiful creatures give colour to the
water ; but it is exceedingly improbable that an animal
of this genus should ever be of the size, even of the
whale : its soft materials are little fitted for locomotion,
and would be easily destroyed by every kind of fish.
Hands and a finny tail are entirely contrary to the ana-
logy of nature ; and I disbelieve the mermaid, upon phi-
losophical principles. The dugong and manatee are the
only animals combining the functions of the mammalia,
with some of the characters of fishes, that can be ima-

1 5

178 SALMONIA.

gined, even as a link, in this part of the order of nature.
Many of these stories have been founded upon the long-
haired seal, seen at a distance ; others, on the appear-
ance of the common seal, under particular circumstances
of light and shade ; and some on still more singular cir-
cumstances. A worthy baronet, remarkable for his be-
nevolent views and active spirit, has propagated a story
of this kind ; and he seems to claim for his native
country the honour of possessing this extraordinary
animal ; but the mermaid of Caithness, was certainly a
gentleman, who happened to be travelling on that wild
shore, and who was seen bathing by some young ladies
at so great a distance, that not only genus, but gender,
was mistaken. I am acquainted with him, and have had
the story from his own mouth. He is a young man, fond
of geological pursuits ; and one day in the middle of
August, having fatigued and heated himself by climbing
a rock to examine a particular appearance of granite, he
gave his clothes to his Highland guide, who was taking
care of his pony, and descended to the sea. The sun
was just setting, and he amused himself for some time
by swimming from rock to rock, and having undipped
hair and no cap, he sometimes threw aside his locks,
and wrung the water from them on the rocks. He hap-
pened the year after to be at Harrowgate, and was sitting
at table with two young ladies from Caithness, who were
relating to a wondering audience the story of the mer-
maid they had seen, which had already been published
in the newspapers : they described her, as she usually is
described by poets, as a beautiful animal, with remark-
ably fair skin, and long green hair. The young gentle-
man took the liberty, as most of the rest of the company
did, to put a few questions to the elder of the two ladies
— such as, on what day, and precisely where, this sin-

MERMAID. 179

gular phenomenon had appeared. She had noted down,
not merely the day, but the hour and minute, and pro-
duced a map of the place. Our bather referred to his
journal, and showed that a human animal was swimming
in the very spot at that very time, who had some of the
characters ascribed to the mermaid, but who laid no
claim to others, particularly the green hair and fish's
tail ; but being rather sallow in the face, was glad to
have such testimony to the colour of his body beneath
his garments.

PoiET. — But I do not understand upon what philoso-
phical principles you deny the existence of the mer-
maid. We are not necessarily acquainted with all the
animals that inhabit the bottom of the sea; and I cannot
help thinking there must have been some foundation for
the Fable of the Tritons and Nereids.

Hal. — Ay ; and of the ocean divinities, Neptune and
Amphitrite !

PoiET. — Now I think you are prejudiced.

Hal. — I remember the worthy baronet, whom I just
now mentioned, on some one praising the late Sir Joseph
Banks very highly, said, " Sir Joseph was an excellent
man — but he had his prejudices." What were they ?
said my friend. " Why, he did not believe in the mer-
maid." Pray still consider me as the baronet did Sir
Joseph — prejudiced on this subject.

Orn. — But give us some reasons for the impossibility
of the existence of this animal.

Hal. — Nay, I did not say impossibility ; I am too
much of the school of Izaac Walton, to talk of impossi-
bility. It doubtless might please God to make a mer-
maid; but I do not believe God ever did make one.

Orn. — And why ?

Hal. —Because wisdom and order are found in all

180 SALMONIA.

his works, and the parts of animals are always in har-
mony with each other, and always adapted to certain
ends consistent with the analogy of nature ; and a human
hccid, human hands, and human mammae, are wholly
inconsistent with a fish's tail. The human head is
adapted for an erect posture ; and in such a posture, an
animal with a fish's tail could not swim ; and a creature
with lungs must be on the surface several times in a
day — and the sea is an inconvenient breathing place :
and hands are instruments of manufacture — and the
depths of the ocean are little fitted for fabricating that
mirror, which our old prints gave to the mermaid.
Such an animal, if created, could not long exist ; and^
with scarcely any locomotive powers, would be the prey
of other fishes, formed in a manner more suited to their
element. I have seen a most absurd fabrication of a
mermaid, exposed as a show in London, said to have
been found in the Chinese seas, and bought for a large
sum of money. The head and bust of two different apes
were fastened to the lower part of a kipper salmon,
which had the fleshy fin, and all the distinct characters
of the sahno salar,

Orn. — And yet there were people who believed this
to be a real animal.

Hal. — It was insisted on, to prove the truth of the
Caithness story. But what is there which people will
not believe ?

PoiET. — In listening to your conversation, we have
forgotten our angling, and have lost some moments of
fine cloudy weather.

Hal. — I thought you were tired of catching trouts
and graylings, and I therefore did not urge you to con-
tinue your fly-fishing ; and this part of the river does
not contain so many grayling as the pools above — but

AUSTRIAN METHOD OF CONVEYING FISH. 181

there are good trout, and it is possible there may be
huchos. Let me recommend to you to put on minnow
tackle — that tackle with the five small hooks ; and, as
we have minnows and bleaks, you may perhaps hook
trout, or even huchos; and in half an hour our fish
dinner at the inn will be ready. I shall return there to
see that all is right ; and shall expect you, when you
have finished your fishing.

\They all meet in the dimng room of the inn^

Hal. — Well, what sort of sport have you had, since I
left you ?

PoiET. — We have each caught a trout and two large
chubs, and have had two or three runs besides — but we
saw no huchos ; and though several large grayling rose
in one of the streams, and we tried to catch them, by
spinning the minnow in every possible way, yet they
took no notice of our bait.

Hal. — This is usually the case. I have heard of
anglers who have taken grayling with minnows ; but it
is a rare occurrence, and never happened to me. Your
dinner, I dare say, is now ready ; and you know it is a
dinner entirely of the genus salmo, with vegetables and
fruit. You have hucho from the Traun, and char from
Aussee, and trout from the Traun See, that were
brought alive to the inn, and have only just been killed
and crimped, and are now boiling in salt and water; and
you have likewise grayling and laverets from the Traun
See, which are equally fresh, and will be fried.

Phys. — I think, in this part of the Continent, the art
of carrying and keeping fish, is better understood than
in England. Every inn has a box containing grayling,
trout, carp, or char, into which water from a spring runs ;
and no one thinks of carrying or sending dead fish for a

182 SALMONIA.

dinner. A fish-barrel, full of cool water, which is re-
plenished at every fresh source amongst these moun-
tains, is carried on the shoulders of the fisherman. And
the fish, when confined in wells, are fed with bullock's
liver, cut into fine pieces, so that they are often in better
season in the tank or stew, than when they were taken.
I have seen trout, grayling, and char even, feed vora-
ciously, and take their food almost from the hand.
These methods of carrying and preserving fish, have, I
believe, been adopted from the monastic establishments.
At Admont, in Styria, attached to the magnificent mo-
nastery of that name, are abundant ponds and reser-
voirs for every species of fresh-water fish ; and the char,
grayling, and trout are preserved in different waters —
covered, enclosed, and under lock and key.

PoiET. — I admire, in this country, not only the mode
of preserving, carrying, and dressing fish, but I am de-
lighted, generally, with the habits of life of the peasants,
and with their manners. It is a country in which I
should like to live ; the scenery is so beautiful, the people
so amiable and good-natured, and their attentions to
strangers so marked by courtesy and disinterestedness.

Phys. — They appear to me very amiable and good ;
but all classes seem to be little instructed.

PoiET. — There are few philosophers among them,
certainly ; but they appear very happy, and
Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.

We have neither seen nor heard of any instances of
crime, since we have been here. They fear their God,
love their sovereign, are obedient to the laws, and seem
perfectly contented. I know you would contrast them
with the active and educated peasantry of the manufac-
turing districts of England ; but I believe they are much
happier, and I am sure they are generally better.

EDUCATION. 183

PiiYs. — I doubt this : the sphere of enjoyment, as well
as of benevolence, is enlarged by education.

PoiET. — I am sorry to say I think the system carried
too far in England. God forbid that any useful light
should be extinguished I Let persons who wish for
education receive it; but it appears to me, that in
the great cities in England, it is as it were, forced upon
the population ; and that sciences, which the lower
classes can only very superficially acquire, are presented
to them ; in consequence of which they often become idle
and conceited, and above their usual laborious occupa-
tions. The unripe fruit of the tree of knowledge is, I be-
lieve, always bitter or sour ; and scepticism and discon-
tent— sicknesses of the mind — are often the results of
devouring it.

Hal. — Surely you cannot have a more religious, more
moral, or more improved population than that of Scot-
land ?

PoiET. — Precisely so. In Scotland, education is not
forced upon the people — it is sought for, and it is con-
nected with their forms of faith, acquired in the bosoms
of their families, and generally pursued with a distinct
object of prudence or interest; nor is that kind of educa-
tion wanting in this country.

Phys. — Where a book is rarely seen, a newspaper
never.

PoiET. — Pardon me — there is not a cottage without a
prayer book ; and I am not sorry, that these innocent
men are not made active and tumultuous subjects of
King Press, w^hom I consider as the most capricious,
depraved, and unprincipled tyrant that ever existed in
England. Depraved — for it is to be bought by great
wealth; capricious — because it sometimes follows, and
sometimes forms, the voice of the lowest mob ; and un-

184 SALMONIA.

principled — because, when its interests are concerned, it
sets at defiance private feeling and private character,
and neither regards their virtue, dignity, nor purity.

Hal. — My friends, you are growing warm. I know
you differ essentially on this subject; but surely you
will allow that the full liberty of the press, even though
it sometimes degenerates into licentiousness, and though
it may sometimes be improperly used by the influence
of wealth, power, or private favour, is yet highly ad-
vantageous, and even essential to the existence of a free
country ; and, useful as it may be to the population, it
is still more useful to the government, to whom, as ex-
pressing the voice of the people, though not always vox
Dei, it may be regarded as oracular or prophetic. — But
let us change our conversation, which is neither in time
nor place.

PoiET. — This river must be inexhaustible for sport:
I have nowhere seen so many fish.

Hal. — However full a river may be of trout and
grayling, there is a certain limit to the sport of the
angler, if continuous fishing be adopted in the same
pools. Every fish is in its turn made acquainted by
diurnal habit with the artificial fly, and either taken or
rendered cautious ; so that, in a river fished much by
one or two good anglers, many fish cannot be caught,
except under peculiar circumstances of very windy,
rainy, or cloudy weather, when many flies come on ; or
at night, or at the time the w^ater is slightly coloured by
a flood, or when fish change their haunts in consequence
of a great inundation. In the Usk, in Monmouthshire,
when it was very full of fish in the best fishing time,
when the spring brown and dun flies were on the water,
it was not usual for some excellent anglers, who com-
posed a party of nine, and who fished in this river for

EFFECT OF CONTINUOUS FISHING. 185

ten continuous days, to catch more than two or three
fish each person. But one day, when the water was
coloured by a flood, in which case the artificial fly could
not be distinguished by the fish from the natural fly, I
caught twelve or fourteen of the same fish, that had been
in the habit of refusing my flies for many days succes-
sively. This was in the end of March, 1809, when the
flies always came on the water with great regularity ;
the blues in dark days, the browns in bright days, be-
tween twelve and tw^o o'clock in the middle of the day.
In rivers where the artificial fly has never been used, I
believe all the fish wall mistake good imitations for
natural flies, and in their turn, to use an angler's phrase,
"taste the steel;" but even very imperfect imitations
and coarse tackle, which arc only successful at night or
in turbid water, are sufficient to render fish cautious.
This I am convinced of, by observing the difference
of the habits of fish in strictly preserved streams,
and in streams w^here even peasants have fished with
the coarsest tackle. I might quote the Traun at
Ischl, where the native fishermen used three or four
of the coarsest flies on the coarsest hair links made of
four or five or six hairs, and the Traun at Gm linden,
where they are not allow- ed to fish. The fish that rose
took with much more certainty at Gmiinden than at
Ischl.

At a time when many flies are on, particularly large
ones, a few days of continuous fishing, even with a
single rod, will soon make the sport indifferent in the
best rivers ; but the larger and the deeper the river the
longer it continues, because fish change their stations
occasionally, and pricked fish sometimes leave their
haunts, which are occupied by others; and graylings
are more disposed to change their places than trouts.

188 SALMONIA.

Hal. — I assure you there are fishers with the artificial
fly in diiterent parts of Switzerland, Germany, and
Illyria, though always with rude tackle, and usually
upon rapid streams. Besides the Traun, I can mention
the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Drave, as rivers where
I have seen fish caught with rude imitations of flies used
by native anglers. In Italy, where trout and grayling
are very rare, and only found amongst the highest
mountain chains, I have never seen any fly-fishers ; but
near Ravenna I have sometimes seen anglers for frogs,
who threw their bait exactly as we throw a fly, and caught
great numbers of these animals : and the nature of their
apparatus surprised me more than their method of using
it. Instead of a hook and bait they employed a small dry
frog, tied to a long piece of twine, the forelegs of which
projected like two hooks, and this they threw at a dis-
tance by means of a long rod. The frogs rose like fish
and gorged the small dry frog, by the legs of which they
were pulled out of the w^ater. I was informed by one
of these fishermen, that he sometimes took 200 frogs
in this w^ay in a morning, and that the frogs never
swallowed any bait when still or apparently dead,
but caught at whatever was moving or appeared alive on
the surface of the water ; so that this reptile feeds like a
nobler animal, the eagle, only on living prey.

PoiET. — You say trout are rare in Italy, yet on Ash-
Wednesday, a great day for the consumption of fish in
Rome, I remember to have seen some large trout, which
I was told were from the Velino, above the Falls of
Terni.

Hal. — I once went almost to the source of this
river, above Rieti, in hopes of catching trout, but I
was unsuccessful. I saw some taken by nets, but the
fish were too few, and the river too foul, from the

WATER-OUZEL.— CHAR. 189

deposition of calcareous matter, to render it a good
stream for the angler. In this journey I saw some trout
in brooks in the Sabine country, that I dare say might
have been taken by the fly, but they were small, and
like the brook trout of England. In these streams, as
well as in the Velino and other torrents, I found the
water-ouzel, which, as far as my knowledge extends,
is always a companion of the trout, and I believe feeds
much upon the same larvae of water-flies.

Orn. — These singular little birds, as I have witnessed,
walk under water, not by means of air-pump feet, as I
had once conjectured, but by laying hold with their
claws of stones and the projecting parts of rock; I have
often watched them running beneath the surface of the
sides of streams, and passing from stone to stone ; and I
conclude that they were then in the act of searching for
or feeding upon larvae.

Hal. — I suppose so, and I hope Ornither will shoot
one^to give us an opportunity of examining the con-
tents of their stomachs, and of knowing with certainty
the nature of their food.

Phys. — The char^ is a most beautiful and excellent
fish, and is, of course, a fish of prey. Is he not an ob-
ject of sport to the angler ?

Hal. — They generally haunt deep cool lakes, and are
seldom found at the surface till late in the autumn.
When they are at the surface, however, they will take
either fly or minnow. I have known some caught in
both these ways ; and have myself taken a char, even in
summer, in one of those beautiful, small, deep lakes in
the Upper Tyrol, near Nazereit ; but it was where a
cool stream entered from the mountain ; and the fish
did not rise, but swallowed the artificial fly under water.

* Salmling of the Germans.

190 SALMONIA.

The char is always in its colour a very brilliant fish, but
in different countries there are many varieties in the
tint. I do not remember ever to have seen more beau-
tiful fish than those of Aussee, which, when in perfect
season, have the lovver fins and the belly of the brightest
vermilion, Avith a white line on the outside of the pec-
toral, ventral, anal, and lower part of the caudal fin, and
with vermilion spots, surrounded by the bright olive
shade of the sides and back : the dorsal fin in the char
has 11 spines, the pectoral 14, the ventral 9, the anal
10, and the caudal 20. I have fished for them in many
lakes, without success, both in England and Scotland,
and also amongst the Alps ; and I am told the only sure
way of taking them is by sinking aline with a bullet, and
a hook having a live minnow attached to it, in the deep
water which they usually haunt ; and in this way, like-
wise, I have no doubt the umbla or ombre chevalier, might
be taken.

PoiET. — I have never happened to see this fish.

Hal. — It is very like a char in form, but is without
spots, and has a white and silvery belly. On the table,
its flesh cuts white or cream-colour, and it is exceedingly
like char in flavour. Feb. 11, 1827, one was brought
me from the lake of Bourget,in Savoy; it was said to
be small for this fish ; it was 15 inches long, and 7|^ in
circumference. In the dorsal fin there were 12 spines,
in the pectoral 9, in the ventral 8, in the anal 11, and in
the caudal 24.

PoiET. — -Is it found in this country ?

Hal. — From some descriptions I have heard of certain
species of the salmo found in the Maun See, Traun See,
and Leopoldstadt See, I think, it is. Bloch says, that
it is peculiar to the lakes of Geneva and Neufchatel ;
but what I have just said must convince you of the in-

LAVERET. 191

accuracy of this statement, as I dare say the fish exists
in other deep waters of a like character amongst the
Alps. It is a fish closely allied to the char, and con-
generous both in form and habits,

PoiET. — Is this fish ever taken with the line ?

Hal. — I believe only with nets. It feeds on vege-
tables ; and in the stomachs of those I have opened, I
have never found either flies or small fishes.

Phys. — You mentioned, among the fish for dinner,
the laveret : I never heard of this fish before.

PIal. — It is a fish known in England by the name of
shelley, or fresh -water herring ; in Wales, by that of
guinead ; in Ireland, by that of pollan ; and in Scotland,
by that of vengis. In colour it is most like a grayling,
but with broader and larger scales : it is common in the
large lakes of most Alpine countries, and is known at
Geneva by the name of ferra; and I believe that the
salmo ceruleuSy or wartmann of Bloch, or the gang-Jisc
of the lake of Constance, from a comparison that I made
of it with the ferra, is a variety of the same fish. It
sometimes is as large as 2 lbs. ; and when quite fresh,
and well fried or broiled, is an exceedingly good fish,
and calvers like a grayling.

The laveret of different lakes has appeared to me to
vary in the number of the spines in the fins. One,
brought me from the lake of Zurich, 13 inches long, and
8 inches in girth, had twelve spines in the dorsal fin, 15
in the pectoral fins, 11 in the ventral, 13 in the anal,
and 18 in the caudal. The gang-fisc, from the lake of
Constance, which was of a bluer colour, but, I think,
decidedly, only a variety of the same fish, was 7f inches
long, and 4 in girth, had 12 spines in the dorsal fin, 15
in the pectoral, 11 in the ventral, 12 in the anal, and 18
in the caudal. A laveret, from the Traun See, had 12

192 SALMONIA.

spines in the dorsal fin, 17 in the pectoral, 13 in the
ventral fin, 12 in the anal fin, and 24 in the caudal fin.
One from the Hallstadt See was a larger and broader
fish, but did not differ from the laveret of the Traun See,
except in having two spines less in the tail.

AT TABLE.

Orn. — Now the hucho is dressed, and on the same
table with other species of the salmo, I perceive his
peculiarities more distinctly ; and, in addition to those
you have mentioned, he appears to me to have a stronger
upper jaw, and a larger projection of bone below the
orbit of the eye.

Hal. — He has ; and you will find a similar character
in the pike and perch, and, I believe, in most fishes of
prey ; and the use of it seems to be, to strengthen the
fulcrum of the lever on which the lower jaw moves, so
as to afford the means of greater strength to the whole
muscular apparatus, by means of which the fish seizes
his prey.

PoiET. — These fishes, then, are analogous to the pre-
datory animals of the feline genus, which have this part
of the head exceedingly strong ; and it is here that the
craniologists or phrenologists fix the organ of courage :
does not this extensive chain of analogies offer an
argument in favour of this long agitated and generally
unpopular doctrine ?

Phys. — In my opinion, it offers, like most of the facts
which have been brought forward to prove the truths of
the view of Gall and Spurzheim, an argument rather
unfavourable, when thoroughly and minutely examined.

PoiET. — How ?

Phys. — In these rapacious and predatory animals.

CRANIOLOGY. 193

the organization of the head must be connected with the
functions of the jaws, as the construction of the shoulder-
blade must be related to the use of the fore leg, which,
being intended to strike and seize by talons, must have
a powerful support and a strong bony apparatus in the
shoulder, which might as well be called the organ of
courage as the projection below the frontal bone : but
these animals have no more what is called courage in man,
than they have what is called reason : they face danger
when they are hungry, but almost always fly when their
appetite is satisfied : a hen, in defending her chickens
against a powerful dog, shows quite as much of this
quality as the most ferocious royal tiger. Courage is the
result of strong passions or strong motives; and in man
it usually results from the love of glory or the fear of
shame ; and it appears to me a perfectly absurd idea,
that of connecting it with an organ, which is merely in-
tended to assist the predatory habits and the mastica-
tion of a carnivorous animal.

Hal. — I agree with Physicus in this view of the
subject. I once heard a physiologist of some reputation
deducing an argument in favour of craniology from the
form of the skull of the beaver, which he called a con-
structive animal, and contended, that there was some-
thing of the same character in the skulls of distinguished
architects: now, the skull of the beaver is so formed,
that he is able to use his jaws for cutting down the trees
with which he makes his dam ; and if this analogy were
correct, the architect ought unquestionably to employ
his teeth for the same purpose ; and though I have
known distinguished men, who have been in the habit
of using knives for cutting furniture with a sort of
nervous restlessness of hand, I do not recollect to have
heard of the teeth being employed in the same way :

VOL. IX. K

194 SALMONIA.

and I think it would be quite as correct to find the
architectural or constructive organ in the opposite part
of the body, the tail, as the beaver makes a more in-
genious use of this part than even of his mouth.*
Pray, have you ever observed, Poietes, any particular
protuberance in the nether parts of any of our dis-
tinguished architects ?

PoiET. — I am not a craniologist ; but I would have
the doctrine overturned by facts, and not by ridicule ;
and I have certainly seen some remarkable instances,
which were favourable to the system.

Hal. — My experience is entirely on the opposite
side ; and I once saw a distinguished craniologist in
error on a point, which he considered as the most
decided. He was shown two children, one of whom was
possessed of great mathematical acquirements, the other
of extraordinary musical taste. With the utmost con-
fidence he pronounced judgment, and was mistaken.
It appeared to me, that whilst he was examining the two
heads, he hummed an air, which, being out of tune,
was not responded to by the musical child ; but some-
how struck the fancy of the mathematical one.

Orn. — This hucho is a very good fish; and, indeed,
I can praise all the varieties of the salmo on the table,
that 1 have yet tasted.

Phys. — Amongst them I prefer the char, which, I
think, is even better than the best fresh salmon I ever
tasted.

PoiET. — This char is surprisingly red and full of curd ;

[* The use of the tail of the beaver referred to by the author, long
believed by naturalists, has been considered imaginary by the experienced
Hearne, who was well acquainted with the habits of this animal. — Vide
his work entitled " A journey from Prince of Wales's Fort in Hudson's
Bay, to the Northern Ocean," p. 234.]

FAT AND FLESH OF THE HUCHO. 195

I wonder at its fat : it comes from the Griindtl See,
which is a high Alpine lake, covered with ice more than
half the year : what food can the fish find in so pure
and cold a water ?

Hal. — Minnows and small chubs are found in this
lake ; and the flies which haunt it in summer, have been
aquatic larvae in the autumn, winter, and spring: and
there are usually great quantities of small shell-fish,
which live in the deeper parts of this water ; so that
char may find food, even in winter; and cold, or the
repose to which it leads, seems favourable to the deve-
lopment or conservation of fat. Most of the Polar ani-
mals (the whale, morse, seal, and white bear, for in-
stance) are loaded with this substance ; and the salmon
of the Arctic Ocean are remarkable for their quantity of
curd : those that run up the rivers in Russia from the
White Sea, are said to be fatter and better than those
caught in the streams which run into the Baltic.

Orn. — I agree with Physicus in his praise of the
char : we are indebted to you, for an excellent enter-
tainment.

Hal. — At Lintz, on the Danube, I could have given
you a fish dinner of a different description, which you
might have liked as a variety. The four kinds of perch,
the Spiegel carpfen, and the siluris glanis ; all good fish,
and which I am sorry we have not in England, where I
doubt not they might be easily naturalized, and they
w^ould form an admirable addition to the table in inland
counties. Since England has become Protestant, the
cultivation of fresh-water fish has been much neglected.
The burbot, or lotte, which already exists in some of the
streams tributary to the Trent, and which is a most ad-
mirable fish, might be diffused without much difficulty ;
and nothing could be more easy than to naturalize the

k2

196 SALMONIA.

Spiegel, carpfen, and siluris ; and I see no reason why the
2)erca lucio perca, and zingel should not succeed in some
of our clear lakes and ponds, which abound in coarse
fish. The new Zoological Society, I hope, will attempt
something of this kind ; and it will be a better object,
than introducing birds and beasts of prey — though I
have no objection to any sources of rational amusement
or philosophical curiosity.

PoiET. — A fish dinner, such as you have just de-
scribed, combined with one such as we have enjoyed
to-day, might, I think, be made an interesting experi-
mental lecture on natural history. The analogies of
the different species and genera of fishes, so distinct in
the form of their organs, are likewise marked in the ap-
pearance and taste of their flesh. The salmon and the
char may be regarded as the generic types of the salmo.
By trout, which have sometimes red, and sometimes
white flesh, they are connected with the grayling and
hucho. By the grayling, the trout is connected with
the laveret ; and by the laveret, the genus salmo is con-
nected with the carp genus. The char is immediately
connected with the grayling, and laveret, by the umbla.
By the sea -trout, the salmon is connected with the
trout; and by the hucho, with the pike and perch fa-
milies.

Hal. — We will arrange a dinner of this kind in Eng-
land, and by means of it follow the analogies of salt and
fresh- water fishes. But the time for our parting is
almost arrived. Let us drink a glass each of this old
wine of the Danube to our next happy meeting, and go
and take a last look of the Fall of the Traun, whilst
our carriages are preparing.

\Tliey walk to the rock above the Fall of the Traun.^
IIal. — See, the cataract is now in great beauty ; the

THE TRAUIV. 197

river above is coloured by the setting sun, and the glow
of the rosy light on the upper stream, is beautifully and
wonderfully contrasted with the tints of the cataract
below ? Have you ever seen any thing so fine ?

PoiET. — The lights are beautiful; but I have cer-
tainly seen a finer combination of features in the Fall of
the Velino, at Terni, though that water is not clear;
but, even with this defect, it is certainly the most per-
fect of European falls. This cascade of the Traun,
though not so elevated as that of Terni, and not so
large as that of Schaff hausen, yet, from its perfect clear-
ness, and the harmony of the surrounding objects, ranks
high, as to picturesque effect, amongst the waterfalls of
Europe; and the wonderful transparency of its pale-
green water, gives it a peculiar charm in my eyes, en-
hanced as it is now by the light of the glowing western
sky ; and the tints of the quadrant iris on its spray, are
not brighter than those of its stream and foam.

Orn. — We have now followed this water at least
thirty miles, and wherever we have seen it, it has always
displayed the same characters of clearness and rapidity
— of green stream and white foam ; and we have traced
it from the snowy mountains of Styria to the plains of
Upper Austria, where it serves to purify the darker
Danube. How is it that it has preserved its trans-
parency, though so many of its tributary streams have
been foul, either from the thunder-storm, or from the
sudden melting of snows?

Hal. — The three small lakes and the two larger ones,
which are, in fact, its reservoirs, are the cause of this.
The Griindtl See furnishes its principal stream, and this
lake is fed by two others — Toplitz See and Lahngen
See ; and the tributary streams, which unite at Aussee,
from Alten Aussee and Oden See, though one is blue

198 SALMONIA.

and the other yellow, yet combine to give a tint, which
is nearly the same as that from the stream of the
Griindtl See, and which the river retains throughout its
course. Yet I have seen even this river very foul, but
only in a part of its course, below Ischl. I was once at
that place, when the thunder-storm of a night having
washed the dust of the roads into the river, it was ex-
tremely turbid from Ischl to the Traun See. It ren-
dered the upper part of this large lake coloured ; but,
notwithstanding this, the river came from the lower part
of it perfectly clear, and I caught fish in it there with a
fly, which, at its entrance into the lake, was quite im-
possible.

PoiET. — You, Halieus, must certainly have consi-
dered the causes which produce the colours of waters.
The streams of our own island are of a very different
colour from these mountain rivers, and why should the
same element or substance assume such a variety of
tints ?

Hal. — I certainly have often thought upon the sub-
ject, and I have made some observations and one expe-
riment in relation to it. I will give you my opinion
with pleasure ; and, as far as I know, they have not
been brought forward in any of the works on the pro-
perties of water, or on its consideration as a chemical
element The purest water with which we are ac-
quainted, is undoubtedly that which falls from the at-
mosphere. Having touched air alone, it can contain
nothing but what it gains from the atmosphere ; and it is
distilled without the chance of those impurities, which
may exist in the vessels used in an artificial operation.
We cannot well examine the water precipitated from
the atmosphere, as rain, without collecting it in vessels,
and all artificial contact, gives more or less of contami-

COLOUR OF WATER. 199

nation ; but in snow, melted by the sunbeams, that has
fallen on glaciers, themselves formed from frozen snow,
water may be regarded as in its state of greatest purity.
Congelation expels both salts and air from water,
whether existing below, or formed in, the atmosphere ;
and in the high and uninhabited regions of glaciers,
there can scarcely be any substances to contaminate.
Removed from animal and vegetable life, they are even
above the mineral kingdom; and though there are in-
stances in which the rudest kind of vegetation (of the
fungus or mucor kind) is even found upon snows, yet
this is a rare occurrence ; and red snow, which is occa-
sioned by it, is an extraordinary and not a common
phenomenon towards the pole, and on the highest
mountains of the globe. Having examined the water
formed from melted snows on glaciers, in different parts
of the Alps, and having always found it of the same
quality, I shall consider it as pure water, and describe
its characters. Its colour, when it has any depth, or
when a mass of it is seen through, is bright blue ; and,
according to its greater or less depth of substance, it has
more or less of this colour: as its insipidity, and its
other physical qualities, are not at this moment objects
of your inquiry, I shall not dwell upon them. In ge-
neral, in examining lakes and masses of water in high
mountains, their colour is of the same bright azure.
And Captain Parry states, that the water on the Polar
ice has the like beautiful tint. When vegetables grow
in lakes, the colour becomes nearer sea-green, and as
the quantity of impregnation from their decay increases
. — greener, yellowish green, and at length, when the
vegetable extract is large in quantity — as in countries
where peat is found — yellow, and even brown. To
mention instances, the Lake of Geneva, fed from sources

200 SALMONIA.

(particularly the higher Rhone) formed from melting
snow, is blue ; and the Rhone pours from it, dyed of
the deepest azure, and retains partially this colour till it
is joined by the Soane, which gives to it a greener hue.
The Lake of Morat, on the contrary, which is fed
from a lower country, and from less pure sources, is
grass green. And there is an illustrative instance in
some small lakes fed from the same source, in the
road from Inspruck to Stutgard, which I observed in
1815, (as well as I recollect) between Nazareit and
Reiti. The highest lake fed by melted snows in March,
when I saw it, was bright blue. It discharged itself by
a small stream into another, into which a number of
large pines had been blown by a winter storm, or fallen
from some other cause : in this lake its colour was blue-
green. In a third lake, in which there were not only
pines and their branches, but likewise other decaying
vegetable matter, it had a tint of faded grass-green ;
and these changes had occurred in a space not much
more than a mile in length. These observations I made
in 1815 : on returning to the same spot twelve years-
after, in August and September, I found the character
of the lakes entirely changed. The pine wood washed
into the second lake had disappeared ; a large quantity
of stones and gravel, washed down by torrents, or de-
tached by an avalanche, supplied their place : there was
no perceptible difference of tint in the two upper lakes;
but the lower one, where there was still some vegetable
matter, seemed to possess a greener hue. The same
principle will apply to the Scotch and Irish rivers,
which, when they rise or issue from pure rocky sources,
are blue, or bluish green ; and when fed from peat bogs,
or alluvial countries, yellow, or amber-coloured, or
brown — even after they have deposited a part of their

COLOUR OF THE OCEAN. 201

impurities in great lakes. Sometimes, though rarely,
mineral impregnations give colour to water : small
streams are sometimes green or yellow from ferru-
ginous depositions. Calcareous matters seldom aifect
their colour, but often their transparency, when depo-
sited, as is the case with the Velino at Terni, and the
Anio at TivoU ; but I doubt if pure saline matters,
which are in themselves white, ever change the tint of
water.

Orn. — On what then does the tint of the ocean de-
pend, which has itself given name to a colour ?

Hal. — I think probably on vegetable matter, and,
perhaps, partially, on two elementary principles, iodine
and brome, which it certainly contains, though these
are possibly the results of decayed marine vegetables.
These give a yellow tint, when dissolved in minute por-
tions in water, and this, mixed with the blue of pure
water, would occasion sea green.* I made, man}^ years
ago, being on the Mer de Glace, an experiment on this
subject. I threw a small quantity of iodine, a substance
then recently discovered, into one of those deep blue
basins of water, which are so frequent on that glacier,
and, diffusing it as it dissolved with a stick, I saw the
water change first to sea green in colour, then to grass
green, and lastly to yellowish green : I do not, however,
give this as a proof, but only as a fact favourable to my
conjecture.

PoiET. — It appears to me to confirm your view of the
subject, that snow and ice, which are merely pure crys-

* [The ocean out of soundings is of a pure blue ; the sea phrase
"blue water" is synonymous with out of soundings. The sea-green
water of shallow seas is commonly more or less turbid ; containing yel-
lowish matter suspended in it, or when clear, flowing over a yellowish
bottom; its colour may be the consequence.]

K 5

202 SALMONIA.

tallized water, are always blue, when seen' by transmitted
light. I have often admired the deep azure in crevices
in masses of snow in severe winters, and the same
colour in the glaciers of Switzerland, particularly at the
arch where the Arve issues, in the Valley of Chamouni.
We thank you for your illustration.

Hal. — In return, I ask you for some further remarks
on this grand waterfall. You said just now, you pre-
ferred the fall of the Velino for picturesque effect to
any other waterfall you have seen ; yet it is a small
river compared even with the Traun, and nothing
compared with the Gotha, the Rhine, or, above all, the
Glommen.

PoiET. — Size is merely comparative : I prefer the fall
of the Velino, because its parts are in harmony. It
displays all the force and power of the element, in its
rapid and precipitous descent, and you feel, that even
man would be nothing in its waves, and would be
dashed to pieces by its force. The whole scene is em-
braced at once by the eye, and the effect is almost as
sublime as that of the Glommen, where the river is at
least one hundred times as large ; for the Glommen
falls, as it were, from a whole valley upon a mountain of
granite, and unless where you see the giant pines of
Norway, fifty or sixty feet in height, carried down by it
and swimming in its whirlpools like straws, you have no
idea of its magnitude and power : yet still, I think,
considering it in all its relations, this is the most awful
fall of water I have seen, as that of Velino is the most
perfect and beautiful. I am not sure, that I ought not
to place the fall of the Gotha above that of the Rhine,
both for variety of effect and beauty ; and the river, in
my opinion, is quite as large, and the colour of the
water quite as beautiful.

REFLECTIONS. 203

Hal. — But our horses are ready, and the time of
separation arrives. I trust we shall all have a happy
meeting in England in the winter. I have made you
idlers at home and abroad, but I hope to some purpose ;
and, I trust, you will confess the time bestowed upon
angling has not been thrown away. The most impor-
tant principle perhaps in life is to have a pursuit — a
useful one if possible, and at all events an innocent one.
And the scenes you have enjoyed — the contemplations
to which they have led, and the exercise in which we
have indulged, have, I am sure, been very salutary to
the body, and, I hope, to the mind. I have always
found a peculiar effect from this kind of life ; it has
appeared to bring me back to early times and feelings,
and to create again the hopes and happiness of youth-
ful days.

Phys. — I felt something like what you described, and
w^ere I convinced that, in the cultivation of the amuse-
ment, these feelings would increase, I would devote
myself to it with passion; but, I fear, in my case this is
impossible. Ah ! could I recover any thing like that
freshness of mind, which I possessed at twenty-five,
and which, like the dew of the dawning morning,
covered all objects and nourished all things that grew,
and in which they were more beautiful even than in
mid-day sunshine,— what would I not give ! — All that
I have gained in an active and not unprofitable life.
How well I remember that delightful season, when, full
of power, I sought for power in others ; and power was
sympathy, and sympathy power; when the dead and
the unknown, the great of other ages and of distant
places, were made, by the force of the imagination, my
companions and friends ; when every voice seemed one
of praise and love ; when every flower had the bloom

204 SALMONIA.

and odour of the rose ; and every spray or plant seemed
either the poet's laurel, or the civic oak — which ap-
peared to offer themselves as wreaths to adorn my
throbbing brow. But, alas ! this cannot be ; and even
you cannot have two springs in life — though I have no
doubt you have fishing days, in which the feelings of
youth return, and that your autumn has a more vernal
character than mine.

PoiET. — I do not think Halieus had ever any season,
except a perpetual and gentle spring ; for the tones of
his mind have been always so quiet, it has been so
little scorched by sunshine, and so little shaken by
winds, that, I think, it may be compared to that sem-
pivernal climate fabled of the Hesperides, where the
same trees produced at once buds, leaves, blossoms, and
fruits.

Hal. — Nay, my friends ! spare me a little, spare my
grey hairs. I have not perhaps abused my youth so
much as some of my friends, but all things that you
have known, I have known ; and if I have not been so
much scorched by the passions from which so many of
my acquaintances have suffered, I owe it rather to the
constant employment of a laborious profession, and to
the exertions called for by the hopes, wants, and wishes
of a rising family, than to any merits of my own, either
moral or constitutional. For my health, I may thank
my ancestors, after my God, and I have not squandered
what was so bountifully given ; and though I do not
expect, like our arch-patriarch, Walton, to number
ninety years and upwards, yet I hope, as long as I can
enjoy in a vernal day the warmth and light of the sun-
beams, still to haunt the streams — following the example
of our late venerable friend, the President of the Royal

REFLECTIONS. 205

Academy,* in company with whom, when he was an
octogenarian, I have thrown the fly, caught trout, and en-
joyed a dehghtful day of angling and social amusement,
in the shady green meadows by the bright clear streams
of the Wandle.

* Benjamin West.

CONSOLATIONS IN TRAVEL;

OR,

THE LAST DAYS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

ADVERTISEMENT

TO

THE FIRST EDITION.

[As is stated in the Preface which follows, this work was composed
during a period of bodily indisposition; — it was concluded at the very
moment of the invasion of the Author's last illness. Had his life been
prolonged, it is probable, that some additions and some changes would
have been made. The editor does not consider himself warranted to
do more than give to the world a faithful copy, making only a few
omissions and a few verbal alterations. The characters of the persons
of the Dialogues were intended to be ideal, at least in great part; — such
they should be considered by the reader ; and, it is to be hoped, that the
incidents introduced, as well as the persons, will be viewed only as
subordinate and subservient to the sentiments and doctrines. The
dedication, it may be specially noticed, is the author's own, and in the
very words dictated by him, at a time when he had lost the power of
writing except with extreme difficulty, owing to the paralytic attack,
although he retained in a very remarkable manner all his mental facul-
ties unimpaired and unclouded.

J. D.]
LondoUj
January 6th, 1830.

TO
THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.,

OF NETHER STOWEY,

IN REMEMBRANCE OF
THIRTY YEARS OF CONTINUED AND FAITHFUL
FRIENDSHIP.

PREFACE.

Salmonia was written during the time of a partial re-
covery from a long and dangerous illness. The present
work was composed immediately after, under the same
unfavourable and painful circumstances, and at a period
when the constitution of the author suffered from new^
attacks. He has derived some pleasure and some con-
solation, when most other sources of consolation and
pleasure were closed to him, from this exercise of his
mind; and, he ventures to hope that these hours of
sickness may be not altogether unprofitable to persons
in perfect health.

Rome,
February 21, 1829.

CONSOLATIONS IN TRAVEL,

OR

THE LAST DAYS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

DIALOGUE THE FIRST.
«

THE VISION.

I PASSED the autumn and the early winter of the years
18 — and 18 — at Rome. The society was, as is usual
in that metropolis of the old Christian world, numerous
and diversified. In it there were found many intellec-
tual foreigners, and amongst them some distinguished
Britons, who had a higher object in making this city
their residence than mere idleness or vague curiosity.
Amongst these ' my countrymen there were two gentle-
men with whom I formed a particular intimacy, and
who were my frequent companions in the visits which I
made to the monuments of the grandeur of the old
Romans, and to the master-pieces of ancient and modern
art. One of them I shall call Ambrosio : he was a
man of highly cultivated taste, great classical erudition
and minute historical knowledge. In religion he was of
the Roman Catholic persuasion ; but a Catholic of the
most liberal school, who in another age might have been
secretary to Ganganelli. His views upon the subjects

214 DIALOGUE I.

of politics and religion were enlarged ; but his leaning
was rather to the power of a single magistrate than to
the authority of a democracy or even of an oUgarchy.
The other friend, whom I shall call Onuphrio, was a
man of a very different character. Belonging to the
English aristocracy, he had some of the prejudices
usually attached to birth and rank ; but his manners
were gentle, his temper good and his disposition amiable.
Having been partly educated at a northern university
in Britain, he had adopted views in religion which went
even beyond toleration, and which might be regarded
as entering the verge of scepticism. For a patrician he
was very liberal in his political views. His imagination
was poetical and discursive, his taste good, and his tact
extremely fine, so exquisite, indeed, that it sometimes
approached to morbid sensibility, and disgusted him
with slight defects, and made him keenly sensible of
small perfections, to which common minds would have
been indifferent.

In the beginning of October, on a very fine afternoon,
I drove with these two friends to the Colosseum, a
monument which for the hundredth time even, I had
viewed with a new admiration ; my friends partook of
my sentiments. I shall give the conversation which
occurred there in their own words. Onuphrio said,
" How impressive are those ruins ! — what a character
do they give us of the ancient Romans, what magnifi-
cence of design, what grandeur of execution ! Had we
not historical documents to inform us of the period
when this structure was raised, and of the purposes for
which it was designed, it might be imagined the work
of a race of giants, a council chamber for those Titans
fabled to have warred against the gods of the pagan
mythology. The size of the masses of travertine of

THE VISION. 215

which it is composed, is in harmony with the immense
magnitude of the building. It is hardly to be wondered
at that a people which constructed such works for their
daily sports, for their usual amusements, should have
possessed strength, enduring energy and perseverance
sufficient to enable them to conquer the world. They
appear always to have formed their plans, and made
their combinations as if their power were beyond the
reach of chance, independent of the influence of time,
and founded for unlimited duration — for eternity !"

Ambrosio took up the discourse of Onuphrio, and
said, " The aspect of this wonderful heap of ruins is so
picturesque, that it is impossible to regret its decay ;
and at this season of the year the colours of the vege-
tation are in harmony with those of the falling ruins,
and how perfectly the whole landscape is in tone ! The
remains of the palace of the Caesars and of the golden
halls of Nero appear in the distance, their gray and
tottering turrets, and their moss-stained arches reposing,
as it were, upon the decaying vegetation : and there is
nothing that marks the existence of life except the few
pious devotees, who wander from station to station in
the arena below, kneeling before the cross, and demon-
strating the triumph of a religion, which received in
this very spot in the early period of its existence one of
its most severe persecutions, and which, nevertheless,
has preserved what remains of that building, where
attempts were made to stifle it almost at its birth ; for,
without the influence of Christianity, these majestic
ruins would have been dispersed or levelled to the dust.
Plundered of their lead and iron by the barbarians,
Goths, and Vandals, and robbed even of their stones by
Roman princes, the Barberini, they owe what remains
of their relics to the sanctifying influence of that faith

216 DIALOGUE I.

which has preserved for the world all that was worth
preserving, not merely arts and literature, but likewise
that which constitutes the progressive nature of intel-
lect, and the institutions which aiford to us happiness in
this world and hopes of a blessed immortality in the
next. And, being of the faith of Rome, I may say,
that the preservation of this pile by the sanctifying
effect of a few crosses planted round it, is almost a
miraculous event. And what a contrast the present
application of this building, connected with holy feel-
ings and exalted hopes, is to that of the ancient one,
when it was used for exhibiting to the Roman people
the destruction of men by wild beasts, or of men, more
savage than wild beasts, by each other, to gratify a hor-
rible appetite for cruelty, founded upon a still more de-
testable lust, that of universal domination ! and who
would have supposed, in the time of Titus, that a faith,
despised in its insignificant origin, and persecuted from
the supposed obscurity of its founder and its principles,
should have reared a dome to the memory of one of its
humblest teachers, more glorious than was ever framed
for Jupiter or Apollo in the ancient world, and have
preserved even the ruins of the temples of the pagan
deities, and have burst forth in splendour and majesty,
consecrating truth amidst the shrines of error, employ-
ing the idols of the Roman superstition for the most
holy purposes, and rising a bright and constant light
amidst the dark and starless night which followed the
destruction of the Roman empire !"

Onuphrio now resumed the discourse : he said, " I
have not the same exalted views on the subject which our
friend Ambrosio has so eloquently expressed. Some
little of the perfect state in which these ruins exist may
have been owing to causes which he has described ; but

THE VISION. 217

these causes have only latety begun to operate, and the
mischief was done before Christianity was estabhshed
at Rome. Feeling differently on these subjects, I ad-
mire this venerable ruin rather as the record of the de-
struction of the power of the greatest people that ever
existed, than as a proof of the triumph of Christianity;
and I am carried forward in melancholy anticipation,
to the period when even the magnificent dome of St.
Peter's will be in a similar state to that which the Colos-
seum now is, and when its ruins may be preserved by
the sanctifying influence of some new and unknown
faith; when, perhaps, the statue of Jupiter, which at
present receives the kiss of the devotee, as the image of
St. Peter, may be employed for another holy use, as the
personification of a future saint or divinity ; and when
the monuments of the papal magnificence shall be
mixed with the same dust as that which now covers the
tombs of the Caesars. Such, I am sorry to say, is the
general history of all the works and institutions belong-
ing to humanity. They rise, flourish, and then decay
and fall; and the period of their decline is generally
proportional to that of their elevation. In ancient
Thebes or Memphis the peculiar genius of the people
has left us monuments from which we can judge of
their arts, though we cannot understand the nature of
their superstitions. Of Babylon and of Troy the
remains are almost extinct ; and what we know of these
famous cities is almost entirely derived from literary
records. Ancient Greece and Rome we view in the
few remains of their monuments ; and the time will
arrive when modern Rome shall be what ancient Rome
now is ; and ancient Rome and Athens will be what
Tyre or Carthage now are, known only by coloured
dust in the desert, or coloured sand, containing the

VOL. IX. L

218 DIALOGUE I.

fragments of bricks or glass, washed up by the waves
of a stormy sea. I might pursue these thoughts still
further, and show that the wood of the cross, or the
bronze of the statue, decay as quickly as if they had
not been sanctified ; and I think I could show that their
influence is owing to the imagination, which, when
infinite time is considered, or the course of ages even,
is null and its effect imperceptible ; and similar results
occur, whether the faith be that of Osiris, of Jupiter,
of Jehovah, or of Jesus."

To this Ambrosio replied, his countenance, and the
tones of his voice, expressing some emotion: " I do not
think, Onuphrio, that you consider this question with
your usual sagacity or acuteness ; indeed, I never hear
you on the subject of religion without pain and without
a feeling of regret, that you have not applied your
powerful understanding to a more minute and correct
examination of the evidences of religion. You would
then, I think, have seen, in the origin, progress, elevation,
decline and fall of the empires of antiquity, proofs that
they were intended for a definite end in the scheme of
human redemption ; you would have found prophecies
which have been amply verified ; and the foundation or
the ruin of a kingdom, which appears in civil history so
great an event, in the history of man, in his religious
institutions, as comparatively of small moment: you
would have found the establishment of the worship of
one God amongst a despised and contemned people as
the most important circumstance in the history of the
early world ; j^ou would have found the Christian dis-
pensation naturally arising out of the Jewish, and the
doctrines of the pagan nations, all preparatory to the
triumph and final establishment of a creed fitted for the

THE VISION. 219

most enlightened state of the human mind, and equally
adapted to every climate and every people."

To this animated appeal of Ambrosio, Onuphrio re-
plied in the most tranquil manner, and with the air of
an unmoved philosopher: — "You mistake me, Ambrosio,
if you consider me as hostile to Christianity. I am not
of the school of the French encyclopoedists, or of the
English infidels. I consider religion as essential to man,
and belonging to the human mind in the same manner
as instincts belong to the brute creation, a light, if you
please, of revelation to guide him through the darkness
of this life, and to keep alive his undying hope of im-
mortality : but pardon me if I consider this instinct as
equally useful in all its different forms, and still a divine
light through whatever medium or cloud of human pas-
sion or prejudice it passes. I reverence it in the fol-
lowers of Bramah, in the disciple of Mahomet, and I
wonder at it, in all the variety of forms it adopts in the
Christian world. You must not be angry with me that
I do not allow infallibility to your church, having been
myself brought up by Protestant parents, who were ri-
gidly attached to the doctrines of Calvin."

I saw Ambrosio's countenance kindle at Onuphrio's
explanation of his opinions, and he appeared to be me-
ditating an angry reply. I endeavoured to change the
conversation to the state of the Colosseum, with which
it had begun. " These ruins," I said, " as you have
both observed, are highly impressive ; yet when I saw
them six years ago, they had a stronger effect on my
imagination, whether it was the charm of novelty, or
that my mind was fresher, or that the circumstances
under which I saw them were peculiar, I know not, but
probably all these causes operated in affecting my mind,
It was a still and beautiful evening in the end of May ;

l2

220 DIALOGUE I.

the last sun-beams were dying away in the western sky,
and the first moon-beams shining in the eastern ; the
bright orange tints Hghted up the ruins, and, as it were,
kindled the snows that still remained on the distant
Apennines, which were visible from the highest acces-
sible part of the amphitheatre. In this glow of colour-
ing, the green of advanced spring softened the gray and
yellow tints of the decaying stones, and as the lights
gradually became fainter, the masses appeared grander
and more gigantic ; and when the twihght had entirely
disappeared, the contrast of light and shade in the beams
of the full moon, and beneath a sky of the brightest
sapphire, but so highly illuminated, that only Jupiter
and a few stars of the first magnitude were visible, gave
a solemnity and magnificence to the scene which
awakened the highest degree of that emotion which is
so properly termed the sublime. The beauty and the
permanency of the heavens and the principle of conser-
vation belonging to the system of the universe, the
works of the Eternal and Divine Architect, were finely
opposed to the perishing and degraded works of man in
his most active and powerful state. And at this mo-
ment so humble appeared to me the condition of the
most exalted beings belonging to the earth, so feeble
their combinations, so minute the point of space, and so
limited the period of time in which they act, that I could
hardly avoid comparing the generations of man, and the
effects of his genius and power, to the swarms of luceoli,
or fire-flies, which were dancing around me, and that
appeared flitting and sparkling amidst the gloom and
darkness of the ruins, but which were no longer visible
when they rose above the horizon, their feeble light
being lost and utterly obscured in the brightness of the
moon-beams in the heavens."

THE VISION. 221

Onuphrlo said : " I am not sorry that you have
changed the conversation. You have given us the his-
tory of a most interesting recollection, and well expressed
a solemn though humiliating feeling. In such moments
and among such scenes, it is impossible not to be struck
with the nothingness of human glory, and the transiency
of human works. This, one of the greatest monuments
on the face of the earth, was raised by a people, then its
masters, only seventeen centuries ago; in a few ages
more it will be but as dust, and of all the testimonials of
the vanity or power of man, whether raised to immor-
talize his name, or to contain his decaying bones with-
out a name, no one is known to have a duration beyond
what is measured by the existence of a hundred gene-
rations; and it is only to multiply centuple, for in-
stance, the period of time, and the memorials of a vil-
lage and the monuments of a country church-yard may
be compared with those of an empire and the remains
of the world."

Ambrosio, to whom the conversation seemed disa-
greeable, put us in mind of an engagement we had
made to spend the evening at the conversazione of a
celebrated lady, and proposed to call the carriage. The
reflections which the conversation and the scene had
left in my mind little disposed me for general societ}^
I requested them to keep their engagement, and said I
was resolved to spend an hour amidst the solitude of the
ruins, and desired them to send back the carriage for
me. They left me, expressing a hope that my poetical
or melancholy fancy might not be the occasion of a cold,
and wished me the company of some of the spectres of
the ancient Romans.

When I w^as left alone, I seated myself in the moon-
shine, on one of the steps leading to the seats supposed

222 DIALOGUE I.

to have been occupied by the patricians in the Colosseum
at the time of the public games. The train of ideas in
which I had indulged before my friends left me con-
tinued to flow with a vividness and force increased by
the stillness and solitude of the scene ; and the full
moon has always a peculiar effect on these moods of
feeling in my mind, giving to them a wildness and a
kind of indefinite sensation, such as I suppose belong at
all times to the true poetical temperament. It must be
so, I thought to myself; — no new city will rise again out
of the double ruins of this; — no new empire will be
founded upon these colossal remains of that of the old
Romans. The world, like the individual, flourishes in
youth, rises to strength in manhood, falls to decay in
age; and the ruins of an empire are like the decrepit
frame of an individual, except that they have some tints
of beauty which nature bestows upon them. The sun
of civilization arose in the East, advanced tow^ards the
West, and is now at its meridian ; — in a few centuries
more it will probably be seen sinking below the horizon
even in the new world, and there will be left darkness
only where there is a bright light, deserts of sand where
there were populous cities, and stagnant morasses where
the green meadow or the bright corn-field once ap-
peared. I called up images of this kind in my imagi-
nation. " Time," I said, " which purifies, and as it
were sanctifies the mind, destroys and brings into utter
decay the body ; and, even in nature, its influence seems
alw^ays degrading. She is represented by the poets as
eternal in her youth, but amongst these ruins she ap-
pears to me eternal in her age, and here no traces of
renovation appear in the ancient of days." I had
scarcely concluded this ideal sentence, when my reverie
became deeper, the ruins surrounding me appeared to

THE VISION. 223

vanish from my sight, the Hght of the moon became
more intense, and the orb itself seemed to expand
into a flood of splendour. At the same time that my
visual organs appeared so singularly affected, the most
melodious sounds filled my ear ; softer, yet at the same
time deeper and fuller, than I had ever heard in the
most harmonious and perfect concert. It appeared to
me that I had entered a new state of existence ; and I
was so perfectly lost in the new kind of sensation which
I experienced, that I had no recollections and no per-
ceptions of identity. On a sudden the music ceased,
but the brilliant light still continued to surround me,
and I heard a low, but extremel}'^ distinct and sweet
voice, which appeared to issue from the centre of it.
The sounds were at first musical, like those of a harp,
but they soon became articulate, as if a prelude to some
piece of sublime poetical composition. " You, like all
your brethren," said the voice, " are entirely ignorant
of every thing belonging to yourselves, the world you
inhabit, your future destinies, and the scheme of the
universe; and yet you have the folly to believe you are
acquainted with the past, the present, and the future. I
am an intelligence somewhat superior to you, though
there are millions of beings as much above me in power
and in intellect, as man is above the meanest and
weakest reptile that crawls beneath his feet ; — yet some-
thing I can teach you : yield your mind wholly to the
influence which I shall exert upon it, and you shall be
undeceived in your views of the history of the world,
and of the system you inhabit." At this moment the
bright light disappeared, the sweet and harmonious
voice, which was the only proof of the presence of a
superior intelligence, ceased: I was in utter darkness
and silence, and seemed to myself to be carried rapidly

224 DIALOGUE I.

upon a stream of air, without any other sensation than
that of moving quickly through space. Wliilst I was
still in motion, a dim and hazy light, which seemed like
that of twilight in a rainy morning, broke upon my
sight, and gradually a country displayed itself to my
view, covered with forests and marshes. I saw wild
animals grazing in large savannahs, and carnivorous
beasts, such as lions and tigers, occasionally disturbing
and destroying them : I saw naked savages feeding upon
wild fruits, or devouring shell-fish, or fighting with clubs
for the remains of a whale which had been thrown upon
the shore. I observed that they had no habitations, that
they concealed themselves in caves, or under the shelter
of palm-trees, — and that the only delicious food which
nature seemed to have given to them, was the date and
the cocoa-nut, — and these were in very small quantities,
and the object of contention. I saw that some few of
these wretched human beings that inhabited the wide
waste before my eyes, had weapons pointed with flint
or fish bone, which they made use of for destroying
birds, quadrupeds, or fishes, that they fed upon raw;
but their greatest delicacy appeared to be a maggot or
worm, which they sought for with great perseverance in
the buds of the palm. When I had cast my eyes on
the varied features of this melancholy scene, which was
now lighted by a rising sun, I heard again the same
voice which had astonished me in the Colosseum, and
which said, — " See the birth of Time ! Look at man in
his newly-created state, full of youth and vigour. Do
you see aught in this state, to admire or envy ?" As the
last words fell on my ear, I was again, as before, rapidly
put in motion, and I seemed, again resistless, to be hur-
ried upon a stream of air, and again in perfect darkness.
In a moment an indistinct light again appeared before

THE VISION. 225

my eyes, and a country opened upon my view, which
appeared partly wild, and partly cultivated ; there were
fewer woods and morasses, than in the scene which I
had just before seen; I beheld men who were covered
with the skins of animals, and who were driving cattle
to enclosed pastures; I saw others who were reaping
and collecting corn, others who were making it into
bread ; I saw cottages furnished with many of the con-
veniences of life, and a people in that state of agricul-
tural and pastoral improvement, which has been ima-
gined by the poets as belonging to the golden age.
The same voice, which I shall call that of the Genius,
said, — "Look at these groups of men who are escaped
from the state of infancy : they owe their improvement
to a few superior minds still amongst them. That
aged man, whom you see with a crowd around him,
taught them to build cottages; from that other, they
learnt to domesticate cattle ; from others, to collect and
sow corn and seeds of fruit. And these arts will never
be lost ; another generation will see them more perfect ;
the houses, in a century more, will be larger and more
convenient ; the flocks of cattle more numerous : the
corn-fields more extensive ; the morasses will be
drained, the number of fruit-trees increased. You shall
be shown other visions of the passages of time, — but as
you are carried along the stream which flows from the
period of creation to the present moment, I shall only
arrest your transit to make you observe some circum-
stances which will demonstrate the truths I wish you to
know, and which will explain to you the little it is per-
mitted me to understand of the scheme of the universe."
I again found myself in darkness and in motion, and I
was again arrested by the opening of a new scene upon
my eyes. I shall describe this scene and the others in

L 5

226 DIALOGUE I.

the succession in which they appeai'ed before me, and
the observations by which they were accompanied in
the voice of the wonderful being who appeared as my
intellectual guide. In the scene which followed that of
the agricultural or pastoral people, I saw a great extent
of cultivated plains; large cities on the sea-shore, pa-
laces, forums, and temples ornamenting them ; men as-
sociated in groups, mounted on horses, and performing
military exercises ; galleys moved by oars on the ocean ;
roads intersecting the country covered with travellers
and containing carriages moved by men or horses. The
Genius now said, " You see the early state of civilization
of man ; the cottages of the last race you beheld, have
become improved into stately dwellings, palaces, and
temples, in which use is combined with ornament. The
few men to whom, as I said before, the foundations of
these improvements were owing, have had divine ho-
nours paid to their memory. But look at the instru-
ments belonging to this generation, and you will find
that they are only of brass. You see men who are
talking to crowds around them, and others who are ap-
parently amusing listening groups by a kind of song or
recitation ; these are the earliest bards and orators ; but
all their signs of thought are oral, for written language
does not yet exist." The next scene which appeared,
was one of varied business and imagery. I saw a man,
who bore in his hands the same instruments as our mo-
dern smith's, presenting a vase, which appeared to be
made of iron, amidst the acclamations of an assembled
multitude, engaged in triumphal procession before the
altars, dignified by the name of Apollo at Delphi ; and
I saw in the same place men who carried rolls of papyrus
in their hands, and wrote upon them with reeds contain-
ino; ink made from the soot of wood mixed with a so-

THE VISION. 227

lution of glue. *' See," the Genius said, " an immense
change produced in the condition of society, by the two
art of which you here see the origin; the one, that of
rendering iron malleable, which is owing to a single in-
dividual, an obscure Greek ; the other, that of making
thought permanent in written characters, an art which
has gradually arisen from the hieroglyphics which you
may observe on yonder pyramids* You will now see
human life replete with power and activity." Again,
another scene broke upon my vision. I saw the bronze
instruments, which had belonged to the former state of
society, thrown away; malleable iron converted into
hard steel; this steel applied to a thousand purposes of
civilized life ; — I saw bands of men who made use of it
for defensive armour, and for offensive weapons ; I saw
these iron-clad men, in small numbers, subduing
thousands of savages, and establishing amongst them
their arts and institutions; I saw a few men, on the
eastern shores of Europe, resisting, with the same ma-
terials, the united forces of Asia ; I saw a chosen band
die in defence of their country, destroyed by an army a
thousand times as numerous ; and I saw this same army,
in its turn, caused to disappear, and destroyed or driven
from the shores of Europe, by the brethren of that band
of martyred patriots ; I saw bodies of these men travers-
ing the sea, founding colonies, building cities, and
wherever they estabUshed themselves, carrying with
them their peculiar arts. Towns and temples arose
containing schools, and libraries filled with the rolls of
the papyrus. The same steel, such a tremendous in-
strument of power in the hands of the warrior, I saw
applied, by the genius of the artist, to strike forms, even
more perfect than those of life, out of the rude marble ;
and I saw the walls of the palaces and temples covered

228 DIALOGUE I.

with pictures, in which historical events were portrayed
with the truth of nature and the poetry of mind. The
voice now awakened my attention, by saying, '*' You
have now before you the vision of that state of society,
which is an object of admiration to the youth of modern
times, and the recollections of which, and the precepts
founded on these recollections, constitute an important
part of your education. Your maxims of war and po-
licy, your taste in letters and the arts, are derived from
models left by that people, or by their immediate imi-
tators, whom you shall now see." I opened my eyes,
and recognized the very spot in which I was sitting,
w^hen the vision commenced. I was on the top of an
arcade, under a silken canopy, looking down upon the
tens of thousands of people, who were crowded in the
seats of the Colosseum, ornamented with all the spoils
that the wealth of a world can give ; I saw in the arena
below animals of the most extraordinary kind, and
which have rarely been seen living in modern Europe,
the giraffe, the zebra, the rhinoceros, and the ostrich
from the deserts of Africa beyond the Niger, the hippo-
potamus from the Upper Nile, and the royal tiger and
the gnu from the banks of the Ganges. Looking over
Rome, which, in its majesty of palaces and temples, and
in its colossal aqueducts, bringing water even from the
snows of the distant Apennines, seemed more like the
creation of a supernatural power, than the work of
human hands; looking over Rome, to the distant land-
scape, I saw the whole face, as it were, of the ancient
world adorned with miniature images of this splendid
metropolis. Where the Roman conquered, there he
civilized ; where he carried his arms, there he fixed like-
wise his household gods ; and from the deserts of Arabia
to the mountains of Caledonia, there appeared but one

THE VISION. 229

people, having the same arts, language, and letters, all
of Grecian origin. I looked again, and saw an entire
change in the brilliant aspect of this Roman world ; the
people of conquerors and heroes was no longer visible ;
the cities were filled with an idle and luxurious popula-
tion ; those farms which had been cultivated by warriors,
who left the plough to take the command of armies,
were now in the hands of slaves ; and the militia of free
men were supplanted by bands of mercenaries, who sold
the empire to the highest bidder. I saw immense
masses of warriors collecting in the north and east,
carrying with them no other proofs of cultivation, but
their horses and steel arms ; I saw these savages every-
where attacking this mighty empire, plundering cities,
destroying the monuments of arts and literature, and,
like wild beasts devouring a noble animal, tearing into
pieces and destroying the Roman power. Ruin, deso-
lation, and darkness were before me, and I closed my
eyes to avoid the melancholy scene. " See," said the
Genius, ^' the m.elancholy termination of a power be-
lieved by its founders invincible, and intended to be
eternal. But you will find, though the glory and great-
ness belonging to its military genius have passed away,
yet those belonging to the arts and institutions, by
which it adorned and dignified life, will again arise in
another state of society." I opened my eyes again,
and I saw Italy recovering from her desolation ; towns
arising, with governments almost upon the model of
ancient Athens and Rome, and these different small
states rivals in arts and arms; I saw the remains of li-
braries, which had been preserved in monasteries and
churches by a holy influence, which even the Goth and
Vandal respected, again opened to the people ; I saw
Rome rising from her ashes, the fragments of statues

230 DIALOGUE I.

found amidst the ruins of her palaces and imperial villas,
becoming the models for the regeneration of art ; I saw
magnificent temples raised in this city, become the me-
tropolis of a new and Christian world, and ornamented
with the most brilliant master-pieces of the arts of de-
sign ; I saw a Tuscan city, as it were, contending with
Rome for pre-eminence in the productions of genius ;
and the spirit awakened in Italy, spreading its in-
fluence from the south to the north. " Now," the Ge-
nius said, " society has taken its modern and permanent
aspect. Consider for a moment its relations to letters
and to arms, as contrasted with those of the ancient
world." I looked, and saw, that in the place of the
rolls of papyrus, libraries w^ere now filled with books.
" Behold," the Genius said, '' the printing press ; by
the invention of Faust the productions of genius are,
as it were, made imperishable, capable of indefinite
multiplication, and rendered an unalienable heritage
of the human mind. By this art, apparently so
humble, the progress of society is secured, and man
is spared the humiliation of witnessing again scenes
like those which followed the destruction of the
Roman empire. Now look to the warriors of modern
times ; you see the spear, the javelin, the shield and the
cuirass, are changed for the musket and the light artil-
lery. The German monk who discovered gunpowder,
did not meanly affect the destinies of mankind ; wars
are become less bloody by becoming less personal, mere
brutal strength is rendered of comparatively little avail;
all the resources of civilization are required to main-
tain and move a large army; wealth, ingenuity and per-
severance, become the principal elements of success ;
civilized man is rendered in consequence infinitely
superior to the savage, and gunpowder gives perm a-

THE VISION. 231

nence to his triumph, and secures the cultivated nations
from ever being again overrun by the inroads of mil-
lions of barbarians. There is so much identity of
feature in the character of the two or three centuries
that are just passed, that I wish you only to take a very
transient view of the political and military events be-
longing to them. You will find attempts made by the
chiefs of certain great nations to acquire predominance
and empire ; you will see those attempts, after being
partially successful, resisted by other nations, and the
balance of power, apparently for a moment broken,
again restored. Amongst the rival nations that may be
considered as forming the republic of modern Europe,
you will see one pre-eminent for her maritime strength
and colonial and commercial enterprize, and you will
find she retains her superiority only because it is favour-
able to the liberty of mankind. But you must not yet
suffer the vision of modern Europe to pass from your
eyes without viewing some other results of the efforts
of men of genius, which, like those of gunpowder and
the press, illustrate the times to which they belong and
form brilliant epochs in the history of the world. If
you look back into the schools of regenerated Italy,
you will see in them the works of the Greek masters of
philosophy, and if you attend to the science taught in
them you will find it vague, obscure, and full of errone-
ous notions. You will find in this early period of im-
provement branches of philosophy even applied to pur-
poses of delusion ; the most sublime of the departments
of human knowlege, astronomy, abused by impostors,
who from the aspect of the planetary world pretended
to predict the fortunes and destinies of individuals.
You will see in the laboratories alchemists searching for
an universal medicine, or elixir of life, and for the

232 DIALOGUE I.

philosopher's stone, or a method of converting all
metals into gold ; but unexpected and useful disco-
veries you will find even in this age arise amidst the
clouds of deception and the smoke of the furnace :
delusion and error vanish and pass away, and truths
seized upon by a few superior men become permanent,
and the property of an enlightening world. Amongst
the personages who belong to this early period, there
are two whom I must request you to notice, one an
Englishman who pointed out the path to the discovery
of scientific truths, and the other a Tuscan, who afforded
the happiest experimental illustrations of the speculative
views of his brother in science. You will see academies
formed a century later in Italy, France, and Britain, in
which the sciences are enlarged by new and varied ex-
periments, and the true system of the universe, de-
veloped by an illustrious Englishman, taught and ex-
plained. The practical results of the progress of physics,
chemistry and mechanics, are of the most marvellous
kind, and to make them all distinct would require a
comparison of ancient and modern states : ships that
were moved by human labour in the ancient world
are transported by the winds ; and a piece of steel,
touched by the magnet, points to the mariner his un-
erring course from the old to the new world ; and by
the exertions of one man of genius, aided by the re-
sources of chemistry, a power which, by the old philo-
sophers could hardly have been imagined, has been
generated and applied to almost all the machinery of
active life ; the steam-engine performs not only the
labour of horses, but of man, by combinations which ap-
pear almost possessed of intelligence ; w^aggons are
moved by it, constructions made, vessels caused to per-
form voyages in opposition to wind and tide, and a

THE VISION. 233

power placed in human hands which seems almost un-
limited. To these novel and still extending improve-
ments may be added others, which, though of a second-
ary kind, yet materially affect the comforts of life, the
collecting from fossil materials the elements of combus-
tion, and applying them so as to illuminate, by a single
operation, houses, streets, and even cities. If you look
to the results of chemical arts, you will find new sub-
stances of the most extraordinary nature applied to
various novel purposes ; you will find a few experiments
in electricity leading to the marvellous result of dis-
arming the thunder-cloud of its terrors, and you will see
new instruments created by human ingenuity, possessing
the same powers as the electrical organs of living ani-
mals. To whatever part of the vision of modern times
you cast your eyes you will find marks of superiority and
improvement, and I wish to impress upon you the con-
viction, that the results of intellectual labour, or of
scientific genius, are permanent and incapable of being
lost. Monarchs change their plans, governments their
objects, a fleet or an army effect their purpose and then
pass away ; but a piece of steel touched by the magnet,
preserves its character for ever, and secures to man the
dominion of the trackless ocean. A new period of so-
ciety may send armies from the shores of the Baltic to
those of the Euxine, and the empire of the followers of
Mahomet may be broken in pieces by a northern people,
and the dominion of the Britons in Asia may share the
fate of that of Tamerlane or Zengiskhan ; but the steam-
boat which ascends the Delaware or the St^ Lawrence
will continue to be used, and will carry the civilization
of an improved people into the deserts of North
America and into the wilds of Canada. In the common
history of the world, as compiled by authors in general.

234 DIALOGUE I.

almost all the great changes of nations are confounded
with changes in their dynasties, and events are usually
referred either to sovereigns, chiefs, heroes, or their
armies, which do in fact originate from entirely different
causes, either of an intellectual or moral nature. Go-
vernments depend far more than is generally supposed
upon the opinion of the people, and the spirit of the
age and nation. It sometimes happens that a gigantic
mind possesses supreme power, and rises superior to the
age in which he is born, such was Alfred in England,
and Peter in Russia ; but such instances are very rare ;
and, in general, it is neither amongst sovereigns nor the
higher classes of society, that the great improvers or
benefactors of mankind, are to be found. The works
of the most illustrious names were little valued at the
times when they were produced, and their authors
either despised or neglected; and great, indeed, must
have been the pure and abstract pleasure resulting from
the exertion of intellectual superiority, and the disco-
very of truth, and the bestowing benefits and blessings
upon society, which induced men to sacrifice all their
common enjoyments, and all their privileges as citizens,
to these exertions. Anaxagoras, Archimedes, Roger
Bacon, Gallileo Gallilei, in their deaths or their impri-
sonments, offer instances of this kind ; and nothing can
be more striking, than what appears to have been the
ingratitude of men towards their greatest benefactors;
but hereafter, when you understand more of the scheme
of the universe, you will see the cause and the effect of
this, — and you will find the whole system governed by
principles of immutable justice. I have said that, in the
progress of society, all great and real improvements are
perpetuated ; the same corn which, four thousand years
ago, was raised from an improved grass by an inventor.

THE VISION. 235

worshipped for two thousand years, in the ancient
world, under the name of Ceres, still forms the prin-
cipal food of mankind; and the potatoe, perhaps the
greatest benefit that the old has derived from the new
world, is spreading over Europe, and will continue to
nourish an extensive population, when the name of the
race by whom it was first cultivated in South America,
is forgotten.

" I will now call your attention to some remark-
able laws belonging to the history of society, and
from the consideration of which you will be able gra-
dually to develope the higher and more exalted prin-
ciples of being. There appears nothing more acci-
dental than the sex of an infant, yet take any great city
or any province, and you will find that the relations
of males and females are unalterable. Again, a part of
the pure air of the atmosphere is continually consumed
in combustion and respiration ; living vegetables emit
this principle during their growth; nothing appears
more accidental than the proportion of vegetable to
animal life on the surface of the earth, yet they are per-
fectly equivalent, and the balance of the sexes, like the
constitution of the atmosphere, depends upon the prin-
ciples of an unerring intelligence. You saw, in the de-
cline of the Roman empire, a people enfeebled by luxury,
worn out by excess, overrun by rude warriors ; you saw
the giants of the North and East mixing with the pig-
mies of the South and West. An empire was destroyed,
but the seeds of moral and physical improvement in the
new race were sown ; the new population resulting from
the alliances of the men of the North with the women
of the south was more vigorous, more full of physical
power and more capable of intellectual exertion than
their apparently ill suited progenitors ; and the moral

236 DIALOGUE I.

effects or final causes of the migration of races, the plans
of conquest and ambition which have led to revolutions
and changes of kingdoms designed by man for such
different objects, have been the same in their ultimate re-
sults,— that of improving by mixture the different fami-
lies of men. An Alaric or an Attila, who marches with
legions of barbarians for some gross view of plunder or
ambition, is an instrument of divine power to effect a pur-
pose of which he is wholly unconscious, — he is carrying a
strong race to improve a weak one, and giving energy to
a debilitated population ; and the deserts he makes in his
passage wdll become in another age cultivated fields, and
the solitude he produces will be succeeded by a powerful
and healthy population. The results of these events in
the moral and political world may be compared to those
produced in the vegetable kingdom by the storms and
heavy gales so usual at the vernal equinox, the time of
the formation of the seed ; the pollen or farina of one
flower is thrown upon the pistil of another, and the
crossing of varieties of plants so essential to the perfec-
tion of the vegetable world produced. In man, moral
causes and physical ones modify each other ; the trans^
mission of hereditary qualities to offspring is distinct in
the animal world, and in the case of disposition to
disease it is sufficiently obvious in the human being.
But it is likewise a general principle, that powers
or habits acquired by cultivation are transmitted to
the next generation and exalted or perpetuated; the
history of particular races of men affords distinct proofs
of this. The Caucasian stock has always preserved its
superiority, whilst the negro or flat-nosed race has
always been marked by want of intellectual power and
capacity for the arts of life. This last race, in fact, has
never been cultivated, and a hundred generations, sue-

THE VISION. 237

cessively improved, would be required to bring it to the
state in which the Caucasian race was at the time of the
formation of the Greek repubhcs. The principle of the
improvement of the character of races by the transmission
of hereditary qualities has not escaped the observations
of the legislators of the ancient people. By the divine law
of Moses, the Israelites were enjoined to preserve the
purity of their blood, and there was no higher crime
than that of forming alliances with the idolatrous nations
surrounding them. The Bramins of Hindostan have
established, upon the same principle, the law of caste,
by which certain professions were made hereditary. In
this warm climate, w here labour is so oppressive, to secure
perfection in any series of operations, it seems essential to
strengthen the powers by the forces acquired from this
principle of hereditary descent. It will at first, perhaps,
strike your mind, that the mixing or blending of races is
in direct opposition to this principle of perfection ; but
here I must require you to pause and consider the nature
of the qualities belonging to the human being. Excess
of a particular power, which is in itself a perfection, be-
comes a defect ; the organs of touch may be so refined
as to show a diseased sensibility ; the ear may become
so exquisitely sensitive as to be more susceptible to the
uneasiness produced by discords than to the pleasures of
harmony. In the nations which have been long civilized,
the defects are generally those dependent on excess of
sensibility, — defects which are cured in the next gene-
ration by the strength and power belonging to a ruder
tribe. In looking back upon the vision of ancient
history, you will find that there never has been an in-
stance of a migration to any extent of any race but the
Caucasian, and they have usually passed from the North
to the South. The negro race has always been driven

238 DIALOGUE I.

before these conquerors of the world ; and the red men,
the aborigines of America, are constantly diminishing
in number, and it is probable that in a few centuries
more their pure blood will be entirely extinct. In the
population of the world, the great object is evidently to
produce organized frames most capable of the happy
and intellectual enjoyment of life, — to raise man above
the mere animal state. To perpetuate the advantages
of civilization, the races most capable of these advan-
tages are preserved and extended, and no consider-
able improvement made by an individual is ever lost
to society. You see living forms perpetuated in the
series of ages, and apparently the quantity of life in-
creased. In comparing the population of the globe as
it now is with what it was centuries ago, you would
find it considerably greater; and if the quantity of
life is increased, the quantity of happiness, particularly
that resulting from the exercise of intellectual power, is
increased in a still higher ratio. Now, you will say, is
mind generated, is spiritual power created ; or, are those
results dependent upon the organization of matter, upon
new perfections given to the machinery upon which
thought and motion depend ? I proclaim to you," said
the Genius, raising his voice from its low and sweet
tone to one of ineffable majesty, "neither of these
opinions is true. Listen, whilst I reveal to you the
mysteries of spiritual natures, but I almost fear that with
the mortal veil of your senses surrounding you, these
mysteries can never be made perfectly intelligible to
your mind. Spiritual natures are eternal and indivisible,
but their modes of being are as infinitely varied as the
forms of matter. They have no relation to space, and,
in their transition, no dependence upon time, so that
they can pass from one part of the universe to another

THE VISION. 239

by laws entirely independent of their motion. The
quantity or the number of spiritual essences, like the
quantity or number of the atoms of the material world,
are always the same ; but their arrangements, like those
of the materials which they are destined to guide or
govern, are infinitely diversified ; they are, in fact, parts
more or less inferior of the infinite mind, and in the
planetary systems, to one of which this globe you in-
habit belongs, are in a state of probation, continually
aiming at, and generally rising to a higher state of ex-
istence. Were it permitted me to extend your vision
to the fates of individual existences, I could show you
the same spirit, which in the form of Socrates developed
the foundations of moral and social virtue, in the Czar
Peter possessed of supreme power and enjoying exalted
felicity in improving a rude people. I could show you
the monad or spirit, which with the organs of Newton
displayed an intelligence almost above humanity, now in
a higher and better state of planetary existence drinking
intellectual light from a purer source and approaching
nearer to the infinite and divine Mind. But prepare
your mind, and you shall at least catch a glimpse of
those states, which the highest intellectual beings that
have belonged to the earth enjoy after death, in their
transition to new and more exalted natures." The
voice ceased, and I appeared in a dark, deep and cold
cave, of which] the walls of the Colosseum formed the
boundary. From above, a bright and rosy light broke
into this cave, so that whilst all below was dark, above
all was bright and illuminated with glory. I seemed
possessed at this moment of a new sense and felt that
the light brought with it a genial warmth ; odours like
those of the most balmy flowers appeared to fill the air,
and the sweetest sounds of music absorbed my sense

240 DIALOGUE I.

of hearing ; my limbs had a new lightness given to
them, so that I seemed to rise from the earth, and
gradually mounted into the bright luminous air, leaving
behind me the dark and cold cavern and the ruins
with which it was strewed. Language is inadequate to
describe what I felt in rising continually upwards
through this bright and luminous atmosphere; I had
not, as is generally the case with persons in dreams of
this kind, imagined to myself wings, but I rose gra-
dually and securely as if I were myself a part of the
ascending column of light. By degrees this luminous
atmosphere, which was diffused over the whole of space,
became more circumscribed and extended only to a
limited spot around me. I saw through it the bright
blue sky, the moon and stars, and I passed by them as
if it were in my power to touch them with my hand ; I
beheld Jupiter and Saturn as they appear through our
best telescopes, but still more magnified, all the moons
and belts of Jupiter being perfectly distinct, and the
double ring of Saturn appearing in that state in which
I have heard Herschel often express a wish he could
see it. It seemed as if I was on the verge of the solar
system, and my moving sphere of light now appeared
to pause. I again heard the low and sweet voice of the
Genius, which said, " You are now on the verge of
your own system : will you go further, or return to the
earth ? " I replied, " I have left an abode which is
damp, dreary, dark and cold; I am now in a place
where all is life, light and enjoyment; show me, at least
before I return, the glimpse which you promised me of
those superior intellectual natures and the modes of
their being and their enjoyments." " There are crea-
tures far superior," said the Genius, " to any idea your
imagination can form in that part of the system now

THE VISION. 241

before you, comprehending Saturn, his moons and rings ;
I will carry you to the verge of the immense atmosphere
of this planet. In that space you will see sufficient to
wonder at, and far more than with your present organ-
ization, it would be possible for me to make you under-
stand." I was again in motion, and again almost as
suddenly at rest. I saw below me a surface infinitely
diversified, something like that of an immense glacier
covered with large columnar masses, w^hich appeared as
if formed of glass, and from which were suspended
rounded forms of various sizes, which, if they had not
been transparent, I might have supposed to be fruit.
From what appeared to me to be analogous to masses of
bright blue ice, streams of the richest tint of rose-colour
or purple burst forth and flowed into basins, forming
lakes or seas of the same colour. Looking through the
atmosphere towards the heavens I saw brilliant opaque
clouds of an azure colour that reflected the light of the
sun, which had to my eyes an entirely new aspect, and
appeared smaller, as if seen through a dense blue mist.
I saw moving on the surface below me immense masses,
the forms of which I find it impossible to describe ; they
had sj^stems for locomotion similar to those of the morse
or sea 'horse, but I saw with great surprise that they
moved from place to place by six extremely thin mem-
branes, which they used as wings. Their colours were
varied and beautiful, but principally azure and rose-
colour; I saw numerous convolutions of tubes, more
analogous to the trunk of the elephant than to any
thing else I can imagine, occupying what I supposed to
be the upper parts of the body, and my feeling of as-
tonishment almost became one of disgust, from the
peculiar character of the organs of these singular beings ;
and it was wdth a species of terror that I saw one of

VOL. IX, M

242 DIALOGUE I.

them mounting upwards apparently flying towards those
opaque clouds which I have before mentioned. " I
know what your feelings are," said the Genius : *^ you
want analo":ies and all the elements of knowledge to
comprehend the scene before you. You are in the
same state in which a fly would be whose microscopic
eye was changed for one similar to that of man ; and
you are wholly unable to associate what you now see
with your former knowledge. But, those beings who
are before you, and who appear to you almost as imper-
fect in their functions as the zoophytes of the polar sea,
to which they are not unlike in their apparent organiza-
tion to your eyes, have a sphere of sensibility^ and intel-
lectual enjoyment far superior to that of the inhabitants
of your earth. Each of those tubes whicii appears like
the trunk of an elephant, is an organ of peculiar motion
or sensation ; they have many modes of perception of
which you are wholly ignorant, at the same time that
their sphere of vision is infinitely more extended than
yours, and their organs of touch far more perfect and
exquisite. It would be useless for me to attempt to
explain their organization, which you could never under-
stand ; but of their intellectual objects of pursuit I
may perhaps give you some notion. They have used,
modified and applied the material world in a manner
analogous to man ; but with far superior powers they
have gained superior results. Their atmosphere being
much denser than yours and the specific gravity of their
planet less, they have been enabled to determine the
laws belonging to the solar system w^ith far more accu-
racy than you can possibly conceive, and any one of
those beings could show you what is novv the situation
and appearance of your moon wdth a precision that
would induce you to believe that he saw it, though his

THE VISION. 243

knowledge is merely the result of calculation. Their
sources of pleasure are of the highest intellectual na-
ture. With the magnificent spectacle of their own rings
and moons revolving round them, — with the various
combinations required to understand and predict the
relations of these wonderful phenomena, their rninds are
in unceasing activity and this activity is a perpetual
source of enjoyment. Your view of the solar system is
bounded by Uranus, and the laws of this planet form
the ultimatum of your mathematical results ; but these
beings catch a sight of planets belonging to another
s^^stem, and even reason on the phenomena presented
by another sun. Those comets, of which your astro-
nomical history is so imperfect, are to them perfectly
familiar, and in their ephemerides their places are shown
with as much accurateness as those of Jupiter or Venus
in your almanacs. The parallax of the fixed stars
nearest them is as well understood as that of their own
sun, and they possess a magnificent history of the
changes taking place in the heavens, and which are
governed by laws that it would be vain for me to
attempt to give you an idea of. They are acquainted
with the revolutions and uses of comets ; they under-
stand the sj^stem of those meteoric formations of stones
which have so much astonished you on earth; and
they have histories in which the gradual changes of
nebulae in their progress towards systems have been
registered, so that they can predict their future changes.
And their astronomical records are not like yours,
which go back only twenty centuries to the time of
Hipparchus ; they embrace a period a hundred times as
long, and their civil history for the same time is as
correct as their astronomical one. As 1 cannot describe
to you the organs of these wonderful beings, so neither

M 2

244 DIALOGUE I.

can I show to you their modes of life ; but as their
highest pleasures depend upon intellectual pursuits, so
you may conclude that those modes of life bear the
strictest analogy to that which on the earth you would
call exalted virtue. I will tell you however that they
have no wars, and that the objects of their ambition are
entirely those of intellectual greatness, and that the
only passion that they feel, in which comparisons with
each other can be instituted, are those dependent upon a
love of glory of the purest kind. If I were to show you
the different parts of the surface of this planet, you would
see marvellous results of the powers possessed by these
highly intellectual beings and of the wonderful manner
in which they have applied and modified matter. Those
columnar masses, which seem to you as if arising out of
a mass of ice below, are results of art, and processes are
going on in them connected with the formation and per-
fection of their food. The brilliant coloured fluids are
the results of such operations as on the earth would be
performed in your laboratories, or more properly in your
refined culinary apparatus, for they are connected with
their system of nourishment. Those opaque azure
clouds, to which ^^ou saw a few minutes ago one of
those beings directing his course, are works of art and
places in which they move through different regions of
their atmosphere and command the temperature and the
quantity of light most fitted for their philosophical re-
searches, or most convenient for the purposes of life.
On the verge of the visible horizon which we perceive
around us, you may see in the east a very dark spot or
shadow, in which the light of the sun seems entirely
absorbed ; this is the border of an immense mass of
liquid analogous to your ocean, but unlike your sea it is
inhabited by a race of intellectual beings inferior indeed

THE VISION. 245

to those belonging to the atmosphere of Saturn, but yet
possessed of an extensive range of sensations and en-
dowed with extraordinary power and intelHgence. I
could transport you to the different planets and show you
in each, peculiar intellectual beings bearing analogies to
each other, but yet all different in power and essence.
In Jupiter you would see creatures similar to those in
Saturn, but with different powers of locomotion ; in
Mars and Venus you would find races of created forms
more analogous to those belonging to the earth ; but in
every part of the planetary system you will find one
character peculiar to all intelligent natures, a sense of
receiving impressions from light by various organs of
vision, and towards this result you cannot but perceive
that all the arrangements and motions of the planetary
bodies, their satellites and atmospheres are subservient.
The spiritual natures therefore that pass from system to
system in progression towards power and knowledge
preserv^e at least this one invariable character, and their
intellectual life may be said to depend more or less upon
the influence of light. As far as my knowledge extends,
even in other parts of the universe the more perfect or-
ganized systems still possess this source of sensation and
enjoyment; but with higher natures, finer and more
etherial kinds of matter are employed in organization,
substances that bear the same analogy to common
matter that the refined or most subtle gases do to
common solids and fluids. The universe is every where
full of life, but the modes of this life are infinitely
diversified, and yet every form of it must be enjoyed
and known by every spiritual nature before the con-
summation of all things. You have seen the comet
moving w^ith its immense train of light through the
sky; this likewise has a system supplied with living

246 DIALOGUE I.

beings, and their existence derives its enjoyment from
the diversity of circumstances to which they are ex-
posed ; passing as it were through the infinity of space,
they are continually gratified by the sight of new
systems and worlds, and you can imagine the unbounded
nature of the circle of their knowledge. My power
extends so far as to afford you a glimpse of the nature
of a cometary world." I was again in rapid motion,
again passing with the utmost velocity through the
bright blue sky, and I saw Jupiter and his satellites and
Saturn and his ring behind me, and before me the sun,
no longer appearing as through a blue mist, but in
bright and insupportable splendour, towards which I
seemed moving with the utmost velocit3^ In a limited
sphere of vision, in a kind of red hazy light similar to
that which first broke in upon me in the Colosseum, I
saw moving round me globes which appeared composed
of different kinds of llame and of different colours.
In some of these globes I recognized figures w^iicli put
me in mind of the human countenance, but the resem-
blance was so awful and unnatural that I endeavoured
to withdraw my view from them. " You are now," said
the genius, "in a cometary system; those globes of
light surrounding you, are material forms, such as in
one of your systems of religious faith have been at-
tributed to seraphs : they live in that element which to
you w^ould be destruction ; they communicate by powers
Avhich would convert your organized frame into ashes ;
they are now in the height of their enjoyment being
about to enter into the blaze of the solar atmosphere.
These beings so grand, so glorious, with functions to
vou incomprehensible, once belonged to the earth ;
their spiritual natures have risen through different
stages of planetary life, leaving their dust behind them,

THE VISION. 247

carrying with them only their intellectual power. You
ask me if they have any knowledge or reminiscence of
their transitions ; tell me of ^^our own recollections in
the womb of your mother, and I will answer you. It
is the law of divine wisdom that no spirit carries with it
into another state and being any habit or mental qualities
except those which may be connected with its new
wants or enjoyments; and knowledge relating to the
earth would be no more useful to these glorified beings
than their earthly sj'stem of organized dust, which
would be instantly resolved into its ultimate atoms at
such a temperature; even on the earth the butterfly
does not transport with it into the air the organs or the
appetites of the crawling worm from which it sprung.
There is however one sentiment or passion which the
monad or spiritual essence carries with it into all its
stages of being, and which in these happy and elevated
creatures is continually exalted — the love of knowledge
or of intellectual power, which is in fact in its ultimate
and most perfect development the love of infinite
wisdom and unbounded power, or the love of God.
Even in the imperfect life that belongs to the earth
this passion exists in a considerable degree, increases
even with age, outlives the perfection of the corporeal
faculties, and at the moment of death is felt by the
conscious being ; and its future destinies depend upon
the manner in which it has been exercised and exalted.
When it has been misapplied and assumes the forms of
vague curiosity, restless ambition, vain glory, pride or
oppression, the being is degraded, it sinks in the scale
of existence and still belongs to the earth or an inferior
system, till its errors are corrected by painful discipline.
When, on the contrary, the love of intellectual power
has been exercised on its noblest objects, in discovering

248 DIALOGUE I.

and in contemplating the properties of created forms
and in applying them to useful and benevolent purposes,
in developing and admiring the law^s of the eternal In-
telligence, the destinies of the sentient principle are of
a nobler kind, it rises to a higher planetary world.
From the height to which you have been lifted I could
carry you downwards and show you intellectual natures
even inferior to those belonging to the earth, in your
own moon and in the lower planets, and I could de-
monstrate to you the effects of pain or moral evil in
assisting in the great plan of the exaltation of spiritual
natures ; but I will not destroy the brightness of your
present idea of the scheme of the universe by degrading
pictures of the effects of bad passions, and of the manner
in which evil is corrected and destroyed. Your vision
must end with the glorious view of the inhabitants of
the cometary worlds ; I cannot show you the beings of
the system to which I myself belong, that of the sun ;
your organs would perish before our brightness, and I
am only permitted to be present to you as a sound
or intellectual voice. We are likewise in progression,
but we see and know something of the plans of infinite
wisdom ; we feel the personal presence of that supreme
Deity which you only imagine ; to you belongs faith,
to us knowledge ; and our greatest delight results
from the conviction that we are lights kindled by his
light and that we belong to his substance. To obey, to
love, to wonder and adore form our relations to the
infinite Intelligence. We feel his laws are those of
eternal justice and that they govern all things from
the most glorious intellectual natures belonging to
the sun and fixed stars to the meanest spark of life
animating an atom crawling in the dust of your earth.
We know all things begin from and end in his ever-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 249

lasting essence, the cause of causes, the power of
powers."

The low and sweet voice ceased : it appeared as if I
had fallen suddenly upon the earth, but there was a
bright light before me, and I heard my name loudly
called ; the voice was not of my intellectual guide, —
the genius before me was my servant bearing a flambeau
in his hand. He told me he had been searching me in
vain amongst the ruins, that the carriage had been wait-
ing for me above an hour, and that he had left a large
party of my friends assembled in the Palazzo F *

DIALOGUE THE SECOND.

DISCUSSIONS CONNECTED WITH THE VISION IN THE

COLOSSEUM.

The same friends, Ambrosio and Onuphrio, who were
my companions at Rome in the winter, accompanied me
in the spring to Naples. Many conversations occurred
in the course of our journey, which were often to me
peculiarly instructive, and from the difference of their
opinions generally animated and often entertaining. I
shall detail one of these conversations, which took place
in the evening on the summit of Vesuvius, and the re-
membrance of which, from its connexion with my vision
in the Colosseum, has always a peculiar interest for me.
We had reached, with some labour, the edge of the
crater, and were admiring the wonderful scene around
us ; — I shall give the conversation in the words of the
persons of the drama.

Philalethes. — It is difficult to say whether there is
more of sublimity or beauty in the scene around us.

M 5

250 DIALOGUE II.

Nature appears at once smiling and frowning, in activity
and repose. How tremendous is the volcano, how mag-
nificent this great laboratory of nature in its unceasing
fire, its subterraneous lightnings and thunder, its vo-
lumes of smoke, its showers of stones and its rivers of
ignited lava ! How contrasted the darkness of the scoriae,
the ruins and the desolation round the crater with the
scene below! There we see the rich field covered with
flax, or maize, or millet, and intersected by rows of trees,
which support the green and graceful festoons of the
vine ; the orange and lemon tree covered with golden
fruit, appear in the sheltered glens; the olive-trees
cover the lower hills; islands, purple in the beams of
the setting sun, are scattered over the sea in the west,
and the sky is tinted w^ith red softening into the bright-
est and purest azure ; the distant mountains still retain
a part of the snows of winter, but they are rapidly melt-
ing, and they absolutely seem to melt, reflecting the
beams of the setting sun, glowing as if on fire. And
man appears emulous of nature, for the city below is full
of activity ; the nearest part of the bay is covered v^itli
boats ; busy multitudes crowd the strand, and at the same
time may be seen a number of the arts belonging to civi-
lized society in operation, house-building, ship-build-
ing, rope-making, the manipulations of the smith and of
the agriculturist ; and not only the useful arts, but even
the amusements and luxuries of a great metropolis may
be witnessed from the spot in which we stand; that
motley crowd is collected round a pulcinella, and those
smaller groups that surround the stalls are employed in
enjoying the favourite food and drink of the lazzaroni.

Ambrosio. — We see not only the power and activity
of man, as existing at present, and of vvhich the highest
example may be represented by the steam-boat, which

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 251

is now departing for Palermo, but we may likewise view
scenes which carry us into the very bosom of antiquity,
and, as it were, make us live with the generations of
past ages. Those small square buildings, scarcely visi-
ble in the distance, are the tombs of distinguished men
amongst the early Greek colonists of the country ; and
those two rows of houses without roofs, which appear as
if newly erecting, constitute a Roman town restored
from its ashes, that remained for centuries, as if it had
been swept from the face of the earth. When you study
it in detail, you will hardly avoid the illusion that it is a
rising city ; you will almost be tempted to ask where
are the workmen, so perfect are the walls of the houses,
so bright and uninjured the painting upon them. Hardly
any thing is wanting to make this scene a magnificent
epitome of all that is most worthy of admiration in na-
ture and art; had there been in addition to the other
objects a fine river and a waterfall, the epitome would,
I think, have been absolutely perfect.

Phil.— You are most unreasonable in imagining ad-
ditions to a scene which it is impossible to embrace in
one view, and which presents so many objects to the
senses, the memory, and to the imagination ; yet there is
a river in the valley between Naples and Castel del
Mare ; you may see its silver thread and the white foam
of its torrents in the distance; and if you were geolo-
gists you would find a number of sources of interest,
which have not been mentioned, in the scenery sur-
rounding us. Somma, which is before us, for instance,
affords a wonderful example of a mountain formed of
marine deposits, and which has been raised by subterra-
neous fire, and those large and singular veins which you
see at the base and rising through the substance of the
strata, are composed of volcanic porphyry, and offer a

252 DIALOGUE 11.

most striking and beautiful example of the generation
and structure of rocks and mineral formations.

Onuphrio. — As we passed through Portici, on the
road to the base of Vesuvius, it appeared to me that I
saw a stone which had an ancient Roman inscription
upon it, and which occupied the place of a portal in the
modern palace of the Barberini.

Phil. — This is not an uncommon circumstance;
most of the stones used in the palaces of Portici had
been employed more than 2000 ^^ears before, in struc-
tures raised by the ancient Romans or Greek colonists ;
and it is not a little remarkable, that the buildings of
Herculaneum, a town covered with ashes, tufa, and
lava, from the first recorded eruption of Vesuvius more
than 1700 years ago, should have been constructed of
volcanic materials produced by some antecedent igneous
action of the mountain in times beyond the reach of
history ; and it is still more remarkable that men should
have gone on for so many ages making erections in spots
where their w^orks have been so often destroyed, inat-
tentive to the voice of time or the warnings of nature.

Onu. — This last fact recalls to my recollection an idea
which Philalethes started in the remarkable dream,
which he would have us believe occurred to him in the
Colosseum ; namely, that no important facts which can
be useful to society are ever lost, but that like these
stones, though covered with ashes or hidden amongst
ruins, they are sure to be brought forward again and
made use of in some new form.

Amb. — I do not see the justness of the analogy to
which Onuphrio refers ; but there are many parts of
that vision on which I should wish to hear the explana-
tions of Philalethes. I consider it in fact as a sort of
poetical epitome of his philosophical opinions, and I re-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 253

gard this vision or dream as a mere web of his imagina-
tion, in which he intended to catch us his summer-flies
and traveUing companions.

Phil. — There, Ambrosio, you do me wrong. I will
acknowledge, if you please, that the vision in the
Colosseum is a fiction ; but the most important parts of
it really occurred to me in sleep, particularly that in
which I seemed to leave the earth and launch into the
infinity of space under the guidance of a tutelary
genius. And the origin and progress of civil society
form likewise parts of another dream which I had many
years ago, and it was in the reverie which happened
when you quitted me in the Colosseum that I wove all
these thoughts together, and gave them the form in
which I narrated them to you.

Amb. — Of course we may consider them as an accu-
rate representation of your waking thoughts.

Phil. — I do not say that they strictly are so ; for I
am not quite convinced that dreams are always repre-
sentations of the state of the mind modified by organic
diseases or by associations. There are certainly no
absolutely new ideas produced in sleep, yet I have had
more than one instance, in the course of my life, of
most extraordinary combinations occurring in this state,
which have had considerable influence on my feelings,
my imagination, and my health.

Onu. — Why, Philalethes, you are becoming a vision-
ary, a dreamer of dreams ; we shall perhaps set you
down by the side of Jacob Behmen or of Emanuel
Swedenbourg, and in an earlier age you might have
been a prophet and have ranked perhaps with Mahomet.
But pray give us one of these instances in which such a
marvellous influence was produced on your imagination
and your health by a dream, that we may form some

254 DIALOGUE II.

judgment of the nature of your second sight or in-
spirations, and whether they have any foundation, or
whether they are not, as I beheve, really unfounded,
inventions of the fancy, dreams respecting dreams.

Phil. — I anticipate unbelief, and I expose myself to
your ridicule in the statement I am about to make, yet
I shall mention nothing but a simple fact. Almost a
quarter of a century ago, as you know, I contracted
that terrible form of typhus fever known by the name
of jail fever, I may say, not from any imprudence of my
own,' but whilst engaged in putting in execution a plan
for ventilating one of the great prisons of the metro-
polis. My illness was severe and dangerous ; as long as
the fever continued, my dreams or deliriums were most
painful and oppressive ; but when the weakness conse-
quent to exhaustion came on, and when the probability
of death seemed to my physicians greater than that of
life, there was an entire change in all my ideal combina-
tions. I remained in an apparently senseless or lethargic
state, but in fact my mind was peculiarly active ; there
was always before me the form of a beautiful w^oman
with w^hom I was engaged in the most interesting and
intellectual conversation.

Amb. — The figure of a lady with whom you were in
love.

Phil. — No such thing ; I was passionately in love at
the time, but the object of m^^ admiration was a lady
with black hair, dark eyes and pale complexion ; this
spirit of my vision on the contrary had brown hair, blue
eyes, and a bright rosj^ complexion, and was, as far as I
can recollect, unlike any of the amatory forms which in
early youth had so often haunted my imagination. Her
figure for many days was so distinct in my mind as to
form almost a visual image : as I gained strength the

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 255

visits of my good angel, for so I called it, became less
frequent, and when I was restored to health they were
altogether discontinued.

Onu. — I see nothing very strange in this, a mere re-
action of the mind after severe pain, and, to a young
man of twenty-five, there are few more pleasurable
images than that of a beautiful maiden with blue eyes,
blooming cheeks and long nut-brown hair.

Phil. — But all my feelings and all my conversations
with this visionary maiden were of an intellectual and
refined nature.

Onu. — Yes, I suppose, as long as you were ill.

Phil. — I will not allow you to treat me with ridicule
on this point till you have heard the second part of my
tale. Ten years after I had recovered from the fever,
and when I had almost lost the recollection of the
vision, it was recalled to my memory by a very bloom-
ing and graceful maiden fourteen or fifteen years old,
that I accidentally met during my travels in Illyria; but
I cannot say that the impression made upon my mind
by this female was very strong. Now comes the extra-
ordinary^ part of the narrative ; ten years after, twenty
years after my first illness, at a time when I was exceed-
ingly weak from a severe and dangerous malady, which
for many weeks threatened my life, and when my mind
was almost in a desponding state, being in a course of
travels ordered by my medical advisers, I again met the
person who was the representative of my visionary
female ; and to her kindness and care I believe I owe
what remains to me of existence. My despondency
gradually disappeared, and though my health still con-
tinued weak, life began to possess charms for me which
I had thought were for ever gone; and I could not help
identifying the living angel with the vision which ap-

256 ' DIALOGUE II.

peared as my guardian genius during the illness of my
youth.

Onu. — I really see nothing at all in this fact, whether
the first or the second part of the narrative be con-
sidered, beyond the influence of an imagination ex-
cited by disease. From youth, even to age, v\romen are
our guardian angels, our comforters ; and I dare say
any other handsome young female, who had been your
nurse in your last illness, would have coincided with
your remembrance of the vision, even though her eyes
had been hazel and her hair flaxen. Nothing can be
more loose than the images represented in dreams fol-
lowing a fever, and with the nervous susceptibility pro-
duced by your last illness, almost any agreeable form
would have become the representative of your imagi-
nary guardian genius. Thus it is, that by the power of
fancy, material forms are clothed in supernatural at-
tributes, and in the same manner imaginary divinities
have all the forms of mortality bestowed upon them.
The gods of the pagan mythology were in all their
characters and attributes exalted human beings ; the
demon of the coward, and the angelic form that ap-
pears in the dreams of some maid smitten by devotion,
and w^ho, having lost her earthly lover, fixes her
thoughts on heaven, are clothed in the character and
vestments of humanity changed by the dreaminess of
passion.

Amb. — With such a tendency, Philalethes, as you
have shown to believe in something like a supernatural
or divine influence on the human mind, I am astonished
there should be so much scepticism belonging to your
vision in the Colosseum. And your view of the early
state of man, after his first creation, is not only incom-
patible with revelation, but likewise with reason and

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 257

every thing that we know respecting the history or
traditions of the early nations of antiquity.

Phil. — Be more distinct and detailed in your state-
ments, Ambrosio, that I may be able to reply to them ;
and whilst we are waiting for the sunrise we may
discuss the subject, and for this, let us seat ourselves on
these stones where we shall be warmed by the vicinity
of the current of lava.

Amb. — You consider man, in his early or first created
state, a savage like those who now inhabit New Holland
or New Zealand, acquiring by the little use that they
make of a feeble reason the power of supporting and
extending life. Now, I contend, that if man had been
so created, he must inevitably have been destroyed by
the elements or devoured by savage beasts, so infinitely
his superiors in physical force ; he must therefore have
been formed with various instinctive faculties and pro-
pensities, with a perfection of form and use of organs
fitting him to become the master of the earth ; and, it
appears to me, that the account given in Genesis of the
first parents of mankind having been placed in a garden
fitted with every thing necessary to their existence and
enjoyment, and ordered to increase and multiply there,
is strictly in harmony with reason and accordant with
all just metaphysical views of the human mind. Man
as he now exists can only be raised with great care and
difficulty from the infant to the mature state ; all his
motions are at first automatic and become voluntary by
association ; he has to learn every thing by slow and
difficult processes, many months elapse before he is able
to stand, and many years before he is able to provide for
the common wants of life. Without the mother or the
nurse in his infant state, he would die in a few hours,
and without the laborious discipline of instruction and

258 DIALOGUE II.

example he would remain idiotic and inferior to most
other animals. His reason is onlj^ acquired gra-
dually, and when in its highest perfection is often un-
certain in its results; he must therefore have been
created with instincts that for a long while supplied the
want of reason and which enabled him from the first
moment of his existence to provide for his wants, to
gratify his desires and enjoy the power and the activity
of life.

Phil. — I acknowledge that your objection has some
weight, but not so much as you would attribute to it. I
will suppose that the first created man or men had cer-
tain powers or instincts, such as now belong to the
rudest savages of the southern hemisphere ; I will sup-
pose them created with the use of their organs for de-
fence and offence, and with passions and propensities
enabling them to supply their own wants. And I op-
pose the fact of races who are now actually in this state
to your vague historical or traditionary records ; and
their gradual progress or improvement from this early
state of societ}^ to that of the highest state of civilization
or refinement may, I think, be easily deduced from the
exertions of reason assisted by the influence of the moral
powers and of physical circumstances. Accident, I con-
ceive, must have had some influence in laying the founda-
tions of certain arts; and a climate in which labour was not
too oppressive, and in which the exertion of industry was
required to provide for the wants of life, must have fixed
the character of the activity of the early improving peo-
ple. Where nature is too kind a mother, man is gene-
rally a spoiled child ; where she is severe and a step-
mother, his powers are usually withered and destroyed.
The people of the south and the north, and those be-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 259

tween the tropics, offer, even at this day, proof of the
truth of this principle ; and it is even possible now to
find on the surface of the earth, all the different grada-
tions of the states of societ}^, from that in which man is
scarcely removed above the brute, to that in which he ap-
pears approaching in his nature to a divine intelligence.
Besides, reason being the noblest gift of God to man, I
can hardly suppose that an infinitely powerful and all-
wise Creator would bestow upon the early inhabitants
of the globe a greater proportion of instinct than was
at first necessary to preserve their existence, and that
he would not leave the great progress of their improve-
ment to the development and exaltation of their reason-
ing powers.

Amb. — You appear to me in your argument to have for-
gotten the influence that any civilized race must possess
over savages ; and many of the nations which you con-
sider as in their original state, may have descended from
nations formerly civilized; and it is quite as easy to
trace the retrograde steps of a people as their advances.
The savage hordes who now inhabit the northern coast
of Africa are probably descended from the opulent, com-
mercial and ino;enious Carthao:inians who once con-
tended with Rome for the Empire of the world ; and
even nearer home, we might find in southern Italy and
her islands, proofs of a degradation not much inferior.
What I contend for is, the civilization of the first patri-
archal races who peopled the East, and passed into
Europe from Armenia, in which, paradise is supposed to
have been placed. The early civilization of this race
could only have been in consequence of their powers
and instincts having been of a higher character than those
of savages. They appear to have been small families, —
a state not at all fitted for the discovery of arts by

260 DIALOGUE II.

the exercise, of the mind, and they professed the most
sublime form of rehgion, — the worship of one Supreme
InteUigence, a truth which after a thousand 3^ears of
civiUzation, was with difficulty attained by the most
powerful efforts of reasoning by the Greek sages. It
appears to me, that in the history of the Jews, nothing
can be more in conformity to our ideas of just analogy,
than this series of events. Our first parents were
created with everything necessary for their wants and
their happiness ; they had only one duty to perform, by
their obedience to prove their love and devotion to their
Creator. In this they failed, and death or the fear of
death became a curse upon their race ; but the father
of mankind repented, and his instinctive or intellectual
powers given by revelation were transmitted to his off-
spring more or less modified by their reason, which they
had gained as the fruit of their disobedience. One
branch of his offspring, however, in whom faith shone
forth above reason, retained their peculiar powers and
institutions and preserved the worship of Jehovah pure,
whilst many of the races sprung from their brethren
became idolatrous, and the clear light of heaven was
lost through the mist of the senses ; and that Being,
worshipped by the Israelites only as a mysterious word,
was forgotten by many of the nations who lived in the
neighbouring countries, and men, beasts, the parts of the
visible universe and even stocks and stones were set up
as objects of adoration. The difficulty which the divine
legislators of the Jewish people had to preserve the
purity of their religion amongst the idolatrous nations
by whom they were surrounded, proves the natural
evil tendency of the human mind after the fall of man.
And, whoever will consider the nature of the Mosaical
or ceremonial law, and the manner in which it was sus-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 261

pended before the end of the Roman empire, the ex-
piatory sacrifice of the Messiah, the fear of death
destroyed by the blessed hopes of immortahty estab-
lished by the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the destruc-
tion of Jerusalem by Titus, and the triumphs of Chris-
tianity over paganism in the time of Constantine, can
I think hardly fail to acknowledge the reasonableness
of the truth of revealed religion as founded upon the
early history of man : and whoever acknowledges this
reasonableness and this truth, must I think be dis-
satisfied with the view which Philalethes or his Genius
has given of the progress of society, and will find in it,
one instance, amongst many others that might be dis-
covered, of the vague and erring results of his so much
boasted human reason.

Onu. — I fear I shall shock Ambrosio, but I cannot
help vindicating a little the philosophical results of
human reason, which it must be allowed are entirely
hostile to his ideas. I agree with Philalethes, that it is
the noblest gift of God to man ; and I cannot think that
Ambrosio's view of the paradisaical condition and the
fall of man and the progress of society, is at all in con-
formity with the ideas we ought to form of the institu-
tions of an infinitely wise and powerful being. Be-
sides, Ambrosio speaks of the reasonableness of his
own opinions : of course his notions of reason must
be different from mine, or we have adopted different
forms of logic. I do not find in the biblical history any
idea of the Supreme Intelligence conformable to those
of the Greek philosophers ; on the contrary, I find
Jehovah every where described as a powerful material
being, endowed with organs, feelings, and passions,
similar to those of a great and exalted human agent.
He is described as making man in his own image, as

262 DIALOGUE IT.

walking in the garden in the cool of the evening, as
being pleased with sacrificial offerings, as angry with
Adam and Eve, as personally cursing Cain for his
crime of fratricide, and even as providing our first
parents with garments to hide their nakedness; then,
he appears a material form in the midst of flames,
thunder and lightning, and was regarded by the Le-
vites as having a fixed residence in the ark. He is con-
trasted, throughout the whole of the Old Testament,
with the gods of the heathens only as being more
powerful, and in the strange scene which took place
in Pharaoh's court he seemed to have measured his
abilities with those of certain seers or miagicians, and to
have proved his superiority only by producing greater
and more tremendous plagues. In all the early history
of the Jewish nation, there is no conception approach-
ing to the sublimity of that of Anaxagoras, who called
God the Intelligence or vovg; he appears always, on
the contrary, like the genii of Arabian romance, living
in clouds, descending on mountains, urging his chosen
people to commit the most atrocious crimes, to destroy
all the races not professing the same worship, and to ex-
terminate even the child and the unborn infant. Then,
I find in the Old Testament no promise of a spiritual
Messiah, but onlj^ of a temporal king, who, as the Jews
believe, is yet to come. The serpent in Genesis has no
connexion with the spirit of evil, but is described only
as the most subtle beast of the field, and having injured
man, there was to be a perpetual enmity between their
races, the serpent when able was to bite the heel of the
man, and the man, when an opportunity occurred, was
to bruise the head of the serpent. I will allow, if you
please, that an instinct of religion or superstition belongs
to the human mind, and that the different forms which

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 263

this instinct assumes depend upon various circum-
stances and accidents of history and chmale ; but, I
am not sure that the rehgion of the Jews was superior
to that of the Sabseans who worshipped the stars, or
the ancient Persians who adored the sun as the visible
symbol of divine power, or the eastern nations who in
the various forms of the visible universe worshipped the
powers and energies of the Divinity. I feel like the
ancient Romans with respect to toleration ; I would
give a place to all the gods in my Pantheon, but I
would not allow the followers of Bramah or of Christ
to quarrel about the modes of incarnation or the supe-
riority of the attributes of their triune God.

Amb. — You have mistaken me, Onuphrio, if you
think I am shocked by your opinions ; I have seen too
much of the wanderings of human reason, ever to be
surprised by them, and the views you have adopted are
not uncommon amongst young men of very superior
talents, who have only slightly examined the evidences
of revealed religion. But I am glad to find that you
have not adopted the code of infidelity of many of the
French revolutionists and of an English school of scep-
tics, who find in the ancient astronomy all the germs of
the worship of the Hebrews, who identify the labours
of Hercules with those of the Jewish heroes, and who
find the life, death and resurrection of the Messiah in
the history of the solar day. You at least allow the
existence of a peculiar religious instinct, or, as you are
pleased to call it, superstition, belonging to the human
mind, and I have hopes that upon this foundation you
will ultimately build up a system of faith not unworthy
a philosopher and a christian. Man, with whatever
religious instincts he was created, was intended to com-
municate . with the visible universe by sensations and

264 DIALOGUE II.

act upon it by his organs, and in the earliest state of
society he was more particularly influenced by his gross
senses. Allowing the existence of a Supreme Intelli-
gence and his beneficent intentions towards man, the
ideas of his presence which he might think fit to im-
press upon the mind, either for the purpose of venera-
tion, or of love, of hope or fear, must have been in
harmony with the general train of his sensations : I am
not sure that I make myself intelligible. The same in-
finite power which in an instant could create an uni-
verse, could of course so modify the ideas of an intel-
lectual being as to give them that form and character
most fitted for his existence ; and, I suppose in the early
state of created man, he imagined that he enjo^^ed the
actual presence of the Divinity and heard his voice ; 1
take this to be the first and simplest result of religious
instinct. In early times amongst the patriarchs I sup-
pose these ideas were so vivid as to be confounded with
impressions ; but as religious instinct probably became
feebler in their posterity, the vividness of the impres-
sions diminished, and they then became visions or
dreams, which with the prophets seem to have consti-
tuted inspiration. I do not suppose that the Supreme
Being ever made himself known to man, by a real
change in the order of nature, but that the sensations
of men were so modified by their instincts, as to induce
the belief in his presence. That there was a divine in-
telligence continually acting upon the race of Seth, as
his chosen people, is, I think, clearly proved by the
events of their history-, and also that the early opinions
of a small tribe in Judaea, were designed for the founda-
tion of the religion of the most active and civilized and
powerful nations of the world, and that after a lapse of
three thousand years. The manner in which Chris-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 265

tianity spread over the world, with a few obscure me-
chanics or fishermen for its promulgators, the mode in
which it triumphed over Paganism, even when professed
and supported by the power and philosophy of a Julian,
the martyrs who subscribed to the truth of Christianity,
by shedding their blood for the faith, the exalted nature
of those intellectual men by whom it has been pro-
fessed, who had examined all the depths of nature, and
exercised the profoundest faculties of thought, such as
Newton, Locke, and Hartley, all appear to me strong
arguments in favour of revealed religion. I prefer rather
founding my creed upon the fitness of its doctrines,
than upon historical evidences, or the nature of its
miracles. The Divine Intelligence chooses that men
should be convinced, according to the ordinary train
of their sensations, and on all occasions it appears to me
more natural, that a change should take place in the
human mind, than in the order of nature. The popular
opinion of the people of Judaea was, that certain diseases
were occasioned by devils taking possession of a human
being ; the disease was cured by our Saviour, — and this,
in the Gospel, is expressed by his casting out devils.
But without entering into explanations respecting the
historical miracles belonging to Christianity — it is suf-
ficient to say that its truth is attested by a constantly -
existing miracle — the present state of the Jews, which
was predicted by Jesus ; their temple and city were de-
stroyed, and all attempts made to rebuild it, have been
vain ; and they remain the despised and outcasts of the
world.

Onu. — But you have not answered my objections
with respect to the cruelties exercised by the Jews
under the command of Jehovah, which appear to me in
opposition to all our views of divine justice.

VOL. IX. N

2G6 DIALOGUE II.

Amb. — I think even Philalethes will allow that phy-
sical and moral diseases are hereditary, — and that to
destroy a pernicious unbelief or demoniacal worship, it
w^as necessary to destroy the whole race, root and
branch. As an example, I w^ill imagine a certain con-
tagious disease, which is transmitted by parents to
children, and which, like the plague, is communicated
to sound persons by contact ; to destroy a family of men
who would spread this disease over the whole earth,
would unquestionably be a mercy. Besides, I believe
in the immortality of the sentient principle in man ; de-
struction of life, is only a change of existence ; and sup-
posing the new existence a superior one, it is a gain.
To the Supreme Intelligence, the death of a million of
human beings, is the mere circumstance of so many
spiritual essences changing their habitations, and is ana-
logous to the myriad millions of larvse that leave their
coats and shells behind them, and rise into the atmo-
sphere, as flies in a summer day. When man measures
the w^orks of the divine mind by his own feeble combi-
nations, he must wander in gross error ; the infinite can
never be understood by the finite.

Onu. — As far as I can comprehend your reasoning,
the priests of Juggernaut might make the same defence
for their idol, and find in such views a fair apology
for the destruction of thousands of voluntary victims,
crushed to pieces by the feet of the sacred elephant.

Amb. — Undoubtedly they might; and I should allow
the justness of their defence, if I saw in their religion
any germs of a divine institution fitted to become, like
the religion of Jehovah, the faith of the whole civilized
world, embracing the most perfect form of theism, and
the most refined and exalted morality. I consider the
early acts of the Jewish nation, as the lowest and rudest

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 267

Steps of a temple raised by the Supreme Being to con-
tain the altar of sacrifice to his glory. In the early pe-
riods of society, rude and uncultivated men could only
be acted upon by gross and temporal rewards and pu-
nishments; severe rites and heavy discipline were re-
quired to keep the mind in order — and the punishment
of the idolatrous nations, served as an example for the
JeW'S. When Christianity took the place of Judaism,
the ideas of the Supreme Being became more pure and
abstracted, and the visible attributes of Jehovah and his
angels appear to have been less frequently presented to
the mind ; yet even for many ages, it seemed as if the
grossness of our material senses required some assist-
ance from the eye, in fixing or perpetuating the cha-
racter of religious instinct : and the church to which I
belong, and I may say the whole Christian Church in
early times, allowed visible images, pictures, statues,
and relics as the means of awakening the stronger de-
votional feelings. We have been accused of wor-
shipping merely inanimate objects ; but this is a very
false notion of the nature of our faith ; we regard them
merely as vivid characters, representing spiritual ex-
istences,— and we no more worship them, than the Pro-
testant does his Bible, when he kisses it under a solemn
religious adjuration. The past, the present, and the
future, being the same to the infinite and divine Intel-
ligence, and man being created in love for the purposes
of happiness, the moral and religious discipline to which
he was submitted, was in strict conformity to his pro-
gressive faculties, and to the primary laws of his nature.
It is but a rude analogy, 3^et it is the only one I can
find, that of comparing the Supreme Being to a wase
and good father, who, to secure the well-being of his
offspring, is obliged to adopt a system of rewards and

N 2

2G8 DIALOGUE II.

punishments, in which the senses at first, and afterwards
the imagination and reason, are concerned. He terrifies
them by the example of others, awakens their love of
glory, by pointing out the distinction and the happiness
gained by superior men, by adopting a particular line of
conduct ; he uses at first the rod, and gradually substi-
tutes for it the fear of immediate shame : and having
awakened the fear of shame, and the love of praise or
honour with respect to temporary and immediate
actions, he extends them to the conduct of the w^hole of
life, and makes w^hat was a momentary feeling, a per-
manent and immutable principle. And obedience in
the child to the will of such a parent, may be compared
to faith in, and obedience to the will of the Supreme
Being; and a w^ayward and disobedient child, who
reasons upon and doubts the utility of the discipline of
such a father, is much in the same state in which the
adult man is, who doubts if there be good in the decrees
of Providence, and who questions the harmony of the
plan of the moral universe.

Onu. — Allowing the perfection of your moral scheme
of religion and its fitness for the nature of man, I find
it impossible to believe the primary doctrines on which
this scheme is founded. You make the divine mind, the
creator of infinite worlds, enter into the form of a man
born of a virgin ; you make the eternal and immortal
God, the victim of shameful punishment, and suffering
death on the cross, recovering his life after three days,
and carrying his maimed and lacerated body into the
heaven of heavens.

Amb. — You/ like all other sceptics, make your own in-
terpretations of the Scriptures and set up a standard for
divine power in human reason. The infinite and
eternal mind, as I said before, fits the doctrines of

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 269

religion to the minds by which they are to be embraced.
I see no improbabilit}^ in the idea that an integrant part
of his essence may have animated a human form ; there
can be no doubt that this beUef has existed in the
human mind, and the behef constitutes the vital part of
the religion. We know nothing of the generation of
the human being in the ordinary course of nature ;
how absurd then to attempt to reason upon the acts of
the divine mind ! nor is there more difficulty in imagin-
ing the event of a divine conception than of a divine
creation. To God the infinite, little and great, as mea-
sured by human powers, are equal ; a creature of this
earth, however humble and insignificant, may have the
same weight with millions of superior beings inhabiting
higher systems. But I consider all the miraculous parts
of our religion as affected by changes in the sensations
or ideas of the human mind and not by physical changes
in the order of nature ; a man who has to repair a
piece of machinery, as a clock, must take it to pieces
and in fact remake it, but to infinite wisdom and power
a change in the intellectual state of the human being
may be the result of a momentary will, and the mere
act of faith may produce the change. How great the
powers of imagination are, even in ordinary life, is
shown by many striking facts, and nothing seems impos-
sible to this imagination when acted upon by divine in-
fluence. To attempt to answer all the objections which
may be derived from the w^ant of conformity in the
doctrines of Christianity to the usual order of events
would be an interminable labour. My first principle is,
that religion has nothing to do with the common order
of events ; it is a pure and divine instinct intended to
give results to man wdiich he cannot obtain by the com-
mon use of his reason, and which at first view often

270 DIALOGUE II.

appear contradictory to it, but which when examined by
the most refined tests, and considered in the most ex-
tensive and profound rehxtions are in fact in conformity
with the most exaUed intellectual knowledge, so that
indeed the results of pure reason ultimately become the
same with those of faith, — the tree of knowledge is
grafted upon the tree of life, and that fruit which brought
the fear of death into the world budding on an im-
mortal stock becomes the fruit of the promise of im-
mortality.

Onu. — You derive Christianity from Judaism ; I
cannot see their connexion, and it appears to me that
the religion of Mahomet is more naturally a scion from
the stock of Moses. Christ was a Jew and was circum-
cised ; this rite was continued by Mahomet, and is to
this day adopted by his disciples, though rejected by the
Christians ; and the doctrines of Mahomet appear to
me to have a higher claim to divine origin than those of
Jesus ; his morality is as pure, his theism purer, and his
system of rewards and punishments after death as much
in conformity with our ideas of eternal justice.

Amb. — I will willingly make the decision of the
general question dependent upon the decision of this
particular one. No attempts have been made by the
Mahometans to find any predictions respecting their
founder in the Old Testament, and they have never
pretended even that he was the Messiah : therefore as
far as prophecy is concerned there is no ground for ad-
mitting the truth of the religion of Mahomet. It has
been the fashion with a particular sect of infidels to
praise the morality of the Mahometans, but I think un-
justly. They are said to be honest in their dealings and
charitable to those of their own persuasion; but they
allow polygamy and a plurality of women, and are

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 271

despisers and persecutors of the nations professing a
different faith : and what a contrast does this morality
present to that of the Gospel which inculcates charity
to all mankind, and orders benevolent actions to be per-
formed even to enemies ; and the purity and simplicity
of the infant is held up by Christ as the model of imi-
tation for his followers. Then, in the rewards and
punishments of the future state of the Mahometans,
how gross are all the ideas, how unlike the promises of
a divine and spiritual being ; their paradise is a mere
earthly garden of sensual pleasure, and their Houris
represent the ladies of their own harems rather than
glorified angelic natures. How different is the Christian
heaven, how sublime in its idea, indefinite, yet well
suited to a being of intellectual and progressive faculties;
" Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered
into the heart of man to conceive the joys that He hath
prepared for those who love Him."

Gnu. — I confess your answer to my last argument is
a triumphant one ; but I cannot allow a question of such
extent and of such a variety of bearings to be decided
by so slight an advantage as that which you have gained
by this answer. I will now offer another difficulty to
you. The law of the Jews, you will allow, was esta-
blished by God himself and delivered to Moses from the
seat of his glory amongst storms, thunder and lightnings
on Mount Sinai ; why should this law, if pure and
divine, have been overturned by the same Being who
established it ? And all the ceremonies of the Hebrews
have been abolished by the first Christians.

Amb. — I deny that the divine law of Moses was
abolished by Christ, who himself says " I came to con-
firm the law, not to destroy it." And, the Ten Com-
mandments form the vital parts of the foundation of the

272 DIALOGUE IL

creed of the true Christian. It appears that the religion
of Christ was the same pure theism with that of the
patriarchs; and the rites and ceremonies estabUshed by
Moses seem to have been only adjuncts to the spiritual
religion intended to suit a particular climate and a par-
ticular state of the Jewish nation, rather a dress or
clothing of the religion than forming a constituent part
of it, a system of discipline of life and manners rather
than an essential part of doctrine. The rites of circum-
cision and ablution were necessary to the health and
perhaps even to the existence of a people living on the
hottest part of the shores of the Mediterranean. And,
in the sacrifices made of the first-fruits and of the
chosen of the flock, we may see a design not merely
connected with the religious faith of the people, but
even with their political economy. To offer their
choicest and best property as a proof of their gratitude
to the Supreme Being was a kind of test of devotedness
and obedience to the theocracy ; and these sacrifices, by
obliging them to raise more produce and provide more
cattle than were essential to their ordinary support,
preserved them from the danger of famine, as in case of
a dearth it was easy for the priests under the divine
permission to apply these offerings to the necessities of
the people. All the pure parts of the faith which had
descended from Abraham to David were preserved by
Jesus Christ ; but the ceremonial religion was fitted
only for a particular nation and a particular country ;
Christianity on the contrary was to be the religion of
the world and of a civilized and improving world. And
it appears to me to be an additional proof of its divine
nature and origin, that it is exactly in conformity to the
principles of the improvement and perfection of the
human mind. When given to a particular race fixed in

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 2(o

a peculiar climate, its objects were sensible, its discipline
was severe, and its rites and ceremonies numerous and
imposing, fitted to act upon weak, ignorant and conse-
quently obstinate men. In its gradual development it
threw off its local character and its particular forms,
and adopted ceremonies more fitted for mankind in
general ; and in its ultimate views, it preserves only
pure, spiritual, and I may say philosophical doctrines,
the unity of the divine nature and a future state, em-
bracing a system of rewards and punishments suited to
an accountable and immortal being.

Phil. — I have been attentively listening to your dis-
cussion. The views which Ambrosio has taken of
Christianity certainly throw a light over it perfectly new
to me ; and, I must say in candour, that I am disposed
to adopt his notion of the early state of society rather
than that of my Genius. I have always been accustomed
to consider religious feeling as instinctive ; but Ambro-
sio's arguments have given me something approaching
to a defmite faith for an obscure and indefinite notion.
I am willing to allow that man was created, not a savage,
as he is represented in my vision, but perfect in his
faculties, and with a variety of instinctive powers and
knowledge ; that he transmitted these powers and know-
ledge to his offspring ; but that by an improper use of
reason in disobedience to the divine will, the instinct-
ive faculties of most of his descendants became deterio-
rated, and at last lost, but that these faculties were pre-
served in the race of Abraham and David, and the full
power again bestowed upon or recovered by Christ. I
am ready to allow the importance of religion in culti-
vating and improving the world ; Ambrosio's view ap-
pears to me capable of being referred to a general law
of our nature ; revelation may be regarded not as "a

N 5

274 DIALOGUE II.

partial interference but as a constant principle belonging
to the mind of man, and the belief in supernatural forms
and agency, the results of prophecies and the miracles,
as one only of the necessary consequences of it. Man,
as a reasoning animal, must always have doubted of his
immortality and plan of conduct; in all the results of
faith, there is immediate submission to a divine will,
which we are sure is good. We may compare the des-
tiny of man in this respect to that of a migratory bird ;
if a slow flying bird, as a landrail in the Orkneys in au-
tumn, had reason and could use it as to the probability
of his finding his way over deserts, across seas, and of
securing his food in passing to a warm climate 3000
miles off, he would undoubtedly starve in Europe ; un-
der the direction of his instinct he securely arrives there
in good condition. I have allowed the force of your
objections to that part of my vision relating to the ori-
gin of society, but I hope you will admit that the con-
clusion of it is not inconsistent with the ideas derived
from revelation respecting the future state of the human
being,

Amb. — Revelation has not disclosed to us the nature
of this state, but only fixed its certainty. We are sure
from geological facts, as well as from sacred history, that
man is a recent animal on the globe, and that this globe
has undergone one considerable revolution, since the
creation, by water ; and we are taught that it is to un-
dergo another, by fire, preparatory to a new and glorified
state of existence of man ; but this is all we are permitted
to know ; and as this state is to be entirely different from
the present one of misery and probation, any knowledge
respecting it would be useless, and indeed almost im-
possible,

Phil, — My Genius has placed the more exalted spi-

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 275

ritual natures in cometary worlds, and this last fiery
revolution may be produced by the appulse of a comet.

Amb. — Human fancy may imagine a thousand man-
ners in which it may be produced, but upon such notions
it is absurd to dwell. I will not allow your Genius the
slightest approach to inspiration, and I can admit no
verisimility in a reverie which is fixed on a foundation
you now allow to be so weak. But see, the twilight is
beginning to appear in the orient sky, and there are
some dark clouds on the horizon opposite to the crater
of Vesuvius, the lower edges of which transmit a bright
light, showing the sun is already risen in the country
beneath them. I would say, that they may serve as an
image of the hopes of immortality derived from revela-
tion ; for we are sure, from the light reflected in those
clouds, that the lands below us are in the brightest sun-
shine, but we are entirely ignorant of the surface and
the scenery ; so, by revelation, the light of an imperish-
able and glorious world is disclosed to us ; but it is in
eternity, and its objects cannot be seen by mortal eye or
imaged by mortal imagination.

Phil, — I am not so well read in the scriptures as 1
hope I shall be at no very distant period of time ; but, 1
believe the pleasures of heaven are mentioned more dis-
tinctly than you allow in the sacred writings. I think,
I remember that the saints are said to be crowned with
palms and amaranths, and that they are described as
perpetually hymning and praising God.

Amb. — This is evidently only metaphorical ; music is
the sensual pleasure which approaches nearest to an in-
tellectual one, and probably may represent the delight
resulting from the perception of the harmony of things
and of truth seen in God. The palm as an evergreen
tree, and the amaranth a perdurable flower, are emblems

276 DIALOGUE II.

of immortality. If I am allowed to give a metaphorical
allusion to the future state of the blest, I should image
it by the orange grove in that sheltered glen, on which
the sun is now beginning to shine, and of which the
trees are at the same time loaded with sweet golden fruit
and balmy silver flowers. Such objects may well pour-
tray a state in which hope and fruition become one eter-
nal feeling.

Onu. — This glorious sunrise seems to have made
you both poetical. Though with the darkest and most
gloomy mind of the party, I cannot help feeling its in-
fluence, I cannot help believing with you, that the night
of death will be succeeded by a bright morning ; but as
in the scene below us, the objects are nearly the same as
they were last evening, with more of brightness and
brilliancy, with a fairer prospect in the east and more
mist in the west, so I cannot help believing that our new
state of existence must bear an analogy to the present
one, and that the order of events will not be entirely
different.

Amb. — Your view is not an unnatural one; but I am
rejoiced to find some symptoms of a change in 3^ our
opinions.

Onu. — I wish with all my heart they were stronger ;
I begin to feel my reason a weight, and my scepticism
a very heavy load. Your discussions have made me a
philo-christian, but I cannot understand nor embrace
all the views you have developed, though I really wish
to do so.

Amb. — Your wish if sincere, I doubt not will be gra-
tified. Fix your powerful mind upon the harmony of
the moral world, as you have been long accustomed to
do upon the order of the physical universe, and you will
see the scheme of the eternal Intelligence developing

DISCUSSIONS ON THE VISION. 277

itself alike in both. Think of the goodness and mercy
of Omnipotence, and aid your contemplation by devo-
tional feelings and mental prayer and aspirations to the
source of all knowledge, and wait with humility for the
light which I doubt not will be so produced in your
mind.

Onu. — You again perplex nje ; I cannot believe that
the adorations or offerings of so feeble a creature can
influence the decrees of Omnipotence.

Amtj. — You mistake me : as to their influence or af-
fecting the supreme mind, it is out of the question ; but
they affect your owm mind, they perpetuate a habit of
gratitude and of obedience which may gradual^ end in
perfect faith; they discipline the affections, and keep the
heart in a state of preparation to receive and preserve
all good and pious feelings. Whoever passes from
utter darkness into bright sunshine, finds that he can-
not at first distinguish objects better in one than in the
other ; but in a feeble light, he acquires gradually the
power of bearing a brighter one, and gains at last the
habit not only of supporting it, but of receiving delight
as well as instruction from it. In the pious contempla-
tions that I recommend to you, there is the twilight or
sober dawn of faith which will ultimately enable you to
support the brightness of its meridian sun.

Onu. — I understand you ; but your metaphor is more
poetical than just ; your discipline, however, I have no
doubt, is better fitted to enable me to bear the light,
than to contemplate it through the smoked or coloured
glasses of scepticism.

Amb. — Yes, for they not only diminish its brightness,
but alter its nature.

278 DIALOGUE III.

DIALOGUE THE THIRD.

THE UNKNOWN.

The same persons accompanied me in many journeys
by land and water to different parts of the Phlegraean
fields, and we enjoyed in a most delightful season, the
beginning of May, the beauties of the glorious country
which encloses the Bay of Naples, so rich, so orna-
mented with the gifts of nature, so interesting from the
monuments it contains, and the recollections it awakens.
One excursion, the last we made in southern Italy, the
most important both from the extraordinary personage
with whom it made me acquainted and his influence
upon my future life, merits a particular detail which I
shall now deliver to paper.

It was on the 16th of May 18 — that we left Naples
at three in the morning for the purpose of visiting the
remains of the temples of Paestum, and having provided
relays of horses we found ourselves at about half-past
one o'clock descending the hill of Eboli towards the
plain which contains these stupendous monuments of
antiquity. Were my existence to be prolonged through
ten centuries, I think I could never forget the pleasure
I received on that delicious spot. We alighted from
our carriage to take some refreshment, and we reposed
upon the herbage under the shade of a magnificent
pine contemplating the view around and below us. On
the right were the green hills covered with trees stretch-
ing towards Salerno; beyond them were the marble
cliffs which form the southern extremity of the Bay

THE UNKNOWN. 279

of Sorento ; immediately below our feet was a rich and
cultivated country filled wdth vineyards and abounding
in villas, in the gardens of which were seen the olive
and the cypress tree connected as if to memorialize how
near to each other are life and death, joy and sorrow ;
the distant mountains stretching beyond the plain of
Paestum were in the full luxuriance of vernal vegetation ;
and in the extreme distance, as if in the midst of a
desert, we saw the white temples glittering in the sun-
shine. The blue Tyrrhene sea filled up the outline of
this scene, w^hicli though so beautiful, was not calm ;
there was a heavy breeze which blew full from the south-
west, it was literally a zephyr, and its freshness and
strength in the middle of the day were peculiarly balmy
and delightful, it seemed a breath stolen by the spring
from the summer. I never saw a deeper brighter azure
than that of the waves which rolled towards the shore,
and which was rendered more striking by the pure
whiteness of their foam. The agitation of nature
seemed to be one of breathing and awakening life ; the
noise made by the waving of the branches of the pine
above our heads and by the rattling of its cones was
overpowered by the music of a multitude of birds which
sung every where in the trees that surrounded us, and
the cooing of the turtle doves was heard even more dis-
tinctly than the murmuring of the waves or the whist-
ling of the^ winds, so that in the strife of nature the
voice of love was predominant. With our hearts
touched by this extraordinary scene we descended to
the ruins, and having taken at a farm-house a person
W'ho acted as guide or cicerone, we began to examine
those wonderful remains which have outlived even the
name of the people by whom they were raised, and
which continue almost perfect, whilst a Roman and a

280 DIALOGUE III.

Saracen city since raised have been destroyed. We had
been walking for half an hour round the temples in the
sunshine when our guide represented to us the danger
that there was of suffering from the effects of malaria,
for which, as is well known, this place is notorious, and
advised us to retire into the interior of the temple of
Neptune. We followed his advice, and my companions
began to employ themselves in measuring the circum-
ference of one of the Doric columns, when they
suddenly called my attention to a stranger who was
sitting on a camp stool behind it. The appearance of
any person in this place at this time w^as sufficiently re-
markable, but the man who was before us from his dress
and appearance would have been remarkable any where.
He was employed in writing in a memorandum book
when we first saw him, but he immediately rose and
saluted us by bending the head slightly though grace-
fully ; and this enabled me to see distinctly his person
and dress. He was rather above the middle stature,
slender, but with well-turned limbs; his countenance
was remarkably intelligent, his eye hazel but full and
strong, his front was smooth and unwrinkled, and but
for some grey hairs, which appeared silvering his brown
and curly locks, he might have been supposed to have
hardly reached the middle age ; his nose was aquiline,
the expression of the lower part of his countenance
remarkably sweet, and when he spoke to our guide,
which he did with uncommon fluency in the Neapolitan
dialect, I thought I had never heard a more agreeable
voice, sonorous yet gentle and silver-sounded. His
dress was very peculiar, almost like that of an eccle-
siastic, but coarse and light ; and there was a large soiled
white hat on the ground beside him, on which was
fastened a pilgrim's cockle shell, and there was suspended

THE UNKNOWN. 281

round his neck a long antique blue enamelled phial,
like those found in the Greek tombs, and it was attached
to a rosary of coarse beads. He took up his hat and
appeared to be retiring to another part of the building,
when I apologized for the interruption we had given to
his studies, begged him to resume them, and assured
him that our stay in the building would be only momen-
tary, for I saw that there was a cloud over the sun, the
brightness of which was the cause of our retiring. I
spoke in Italian ; he replied in English, observing that
he supposed the fear of contracting the malaria fever
had induced us to seek the shelter of the shade, — "but it
is too early in the season to have much reasonable fear
of this insidious enemy ; yet," he added, " this bottle
which you may have observed here at my breast, I carry
about with me, as a supposed preventative of the effects
of malaria, and as far as my experience, a very limited
one however, has gone, it is eifectual." I ventured to
ask him what the bottle might contain, as such a benefit
ought to be made known to the world. He replied ; —
" It is a mixture which slowly produces the substance
called by chemists chlorine, which is well known to be
generally destructive to contagious matters; and a
friend of mine who has lived for many years in Italy,
and who has made a number of experiments with it, by
exposing himself to the danger of fever in the worst
seasons and in the worst places, believes that it is a
secure preventative. I am not convinced of this ; but
it can do no harm ; and in waiting for more evidence of
its utility, I employ it without putting the least confi-
dence in its power ; nor do I expose myself to the same
danger, as my friend has done, for the sake of an ex-
periment."— I said, " I believe several scientific persons,
Brocchi amongst others, have doubted the existence of

282 DIALOGUE III.

any specific matter in the atmosphere, producing inter-
mittent fevers, in marshy countries and hot cUmates ;
and have been more disposed to attribute the disease to
physical causes, dependent upon the great differences
of temperature between day and night, and to the
refrigerating effects of the dense fogs, common in such
situations, in the evening and morning; and, on this
hypothesis, they have recommended warm woollen
clothing and fires at night, as the best preventatives
against these destructive diseases, so fatal to the peasants
who remain in the summer and autumn in the neighbour-
hood of the maremme of Rome, Tuscany or Naples."
The stranger said, " I am acquainted with the opinions
of the gentlemen, and they undoubtedly have weight ;
but, that a specific matter of contagion has not been
detected by chemical means, in the atmosphere of
marshes, does not prove its non-existence. We know
so little of those agents that affect the human constitu-
tion, that it is of no use to reason on this subject.
There can be no doubt that the line of malaria above
the Pontine marshes is marked by a dense fog morning
and evening, and most of the old Roman towns were
placed upon eminences out of the reach of this fog. I
have myself experienced a peculiar effect upon the
organs of smell in the neighbourhood of marshes in the
evening after a very hot day ; and the instances in
w^hich people have been seized with intermittents, by a
single exposure, in a place infested by malaria in the
season of fevers, gives, I think, a strong support to
something like a poisonous material existing in the
atmosphere in such spots ; but I merely offer doubts.
I hope the progress of physiology and of chemistry,
will at no very distant time solve this important
problem." Ambrosio now came forward, and bow-

THE UNKNOWN. 283

ing to the stranger, said, he took the liberty, as he
saw from his familiarity with the cicerone, that he
was well acquainted with Psestum, of asking him
whether the masses of travertine, of which the Cyclo-
pian walls and the temples were formed, were really pro-
duced by aqueous deposition from the river Silaro, as
he had often heard reported. The stranger replied ; —
" that they were certainly produced by deposition from
water; and such deposits are made by the Silaro. But
I rather believe," he said, " that a lake in the immediate
neighbourhood of the city furnished the quarry from
which these stones were excavated; and, in half an
hour, if you like, after you have finished your examina-
tions of the temples with your guide, I will accompany
you to the spot from which it is evident that large
masses of the travertine, marmor tiburtinum or calca-
reous tufa, have been raised." We thanked him for
his attention, accepted his invitation, took the usual
walk round the temples, and returned to our new ac-
quaintance, who led the way through the gate of the
city to the banks of a pool or lake a short distance off.
We walked to the borders on a mass of calcareous tufa,
and we saw that this substance had even encrusted the
reeds on the shore. There was something peculiarly
melancholy in the character of this water : all the herbs
around it were grey, as if encrusted with marble ; a few
buffaloes were slaking their thirst in it, which ran wildly
away on our approach, and appeared to retire into a
rocky excavation or quarry at the end of the lake ; there
were a number of birds, which, on examination, I found
were sea-swallows flitting on the surface, and busily
employed, with the libella or dragon-fly, in destroying
the myriads of gnats which rose from the bottom, and
were beginning to be very troublesome by their bites to

284 DIALOGUE III.

US. " There," said the stranger, " is, what I beUeve to
be, the source of those large and durable stones which
you see in the plain before you. This water rapidly
deposits calcareous matter, — and even if you throw a
stick into it, a few hours is sufficient to give it a coating
of this substance. Whichever way you turn your eyes,
you see masses of this recently-produced marble, the
consequence of the overflowing of the lake during the
winter floods, and in that large excavation, where you
saw the buffaloes disappear, you may observe that im-
mense masses have been removed, as if by the hand of
art, and in remote times ; — the marble that remains in
the quarry, is of the same texture and character as that
which you see in the ruins of Psestum ; and I think it is
scarcely possible to doubt, that the builders of those ex-
traordinary structures, derived a part of their materials
from this spot. Ambrosio gave his assent to this opin-
ion of the stranger ; and I took the liberty of asking him
as to the quantity of calcareous matter contained in so-
lution in the lake, saying, that it appeared to me for so
rapid and considerable an effect of deposition, there
must be an unusual quantity of solid matter dissolved
by the water, or some peculiar circumstance of solution.
The stranger replied: "This w^ater is like many, I may
say, most of the sources, which rise at the foot of the
Apennines ; it holds carbonic acid in solution, w^hich
has dissolved a portion of the calcareous matter of the
rock through which it has passed ; — this carbonic acid
is dissipated in the atmosphere ; and the marble, slowly
thrown down, assumes a crystalline form, and produces
coherent stones. The lake before us is not particularly
rich in the quantity of calcareous matter that it contains ;
for, as I have found by experience, a pint of it does not
afford more than five or six grains ; but the quantity of

THE UNKNOWN. 285

fluid and the length of time are sufficient to account for
the immense quantities of tufa and rock, which in the
course of ages have accumulated in this situation." —
Onuphrio's curiosity was excited by this statement of
the stranger, and he said — " May I take the liberty of
asking if you have any idea as to the cause of the large
quantity of carbonic acid, which you have been so good
as to inform us exists in most of the waters in this
country ?" — The stranger replied — " I certainly have
formed an opinion on this subject, which I willingly
state to you. It can, I think, be scarcely doubted, that
there is a source of volcanic fire at no great distance
from the surface, in the whole of southern Italy ; and
this fire, acting upon the calcareous rocks of which the
Apennines are composed, must constantly detach from
them carbonic acid, which, rising to the sources of the
springs, deposited from the waters of the atmosphere,
must give them their impregnation, and enable them to
dissolve calcareous matter. I need not dwell upon Etna,
Vesuvius, or the Lipari Islands, to prove that volcanic
fires are still in existence ; and, there can be no doubt,
that in earlier periods almost the whole of Italy was ra-
vaged by them ; even Rome itself, the eternal city, rests
upon the craters of extinct volcanoes; and I imagine
that the traditional and fabulous record of the destruc-
tion made by the conflagration of Phaeton, in the chariot
of the sun, and his falling into the Po, had reference to
a great and tremendous igneous volcanic eruption,
which extended over Italy, and ceased only near the
Po, at the foot of the Alps. Be this as it may, the
sources of carbonic acid are numerous, not merely in
the Neapolitan, but likewise in the Roman and Tuscan
States. The most magnificent waterfall in Europe, that
of the Velino near Terni, is partly fed by a stream con-

286 DIALOGUE III.

taining calcareous matter dissolved by carbonic acid,
and it deposits marble, which crystalUzes, even in the
midst of its thundering descent and foam, in the bed in
w^hich it falls. The Anio or Teverone, which almost
approaches in beauty to the Yelino, in the number and
variety of its falls and cascatelle, is likewise a calcareous
water ; and, there is still a more remarkable one, which
empties itself into this river below Tivoli, and which
you have probably seen in your excursions in the cam-
pagna of Rome, called the lacus Albula or the lake of
the Solfatara." — Ambrosio said : " We remember it well,
we saw it this very spring ; we were carried there to
examine some ancient Roman baths, and we were
struck by the blue milkiness of the water, by the mag-
nitude of the source, and by the disagreeable smell of
sulphuretted hydrogen, which everywhere surrounded
the lake." — The stranger said ; " When you return to
Latium, I advise you to pay another visit to a spot,
which is interesting from a number of causes, some of
which I will take the liberty of mentioning to you.
You have only seen one lake, that where the ancient
Romans erected their baths, but there is another a few
yards above it, surrounded by very high rushes, and
almost hidden by them from the sight. This lake sends
down a considerable stream of tepid water to the larger
lake, but this water is less strongly impregnated with
carbonic acid ; the largest lake is actually a saturated
solution of this gas, which escapes from it in such quan-
tities in some parts of its surface, that it has the appear-
ance of being actually in ebullition. I have found by
experiment, that the water taken from the most tranquil
part of the lake, even after being agitated and exposed
to the air, contained in solution more than its own
volume of carbonic acid gas, with a very small quantity

THE UNKNOWN. 287

of sulphuretted hydrogen, to the presence of which;, I
conclude, its ancient use in curing cutaneous disorders,
may be referred. Its temperature, I ascertained, was in
the winter in the warmest parts above 80" of Fahren-
heit, and it appears to be pretty constant; for I have
found it differ a few degrees only, in the ascending
source, in January, March, May, and the beginning of
June ; it is therefore supplied with heat from a sub-
terraneous source, being nearly twenty degrees above
the mean temperature of the atmosphere. Kircher has
detailed, in his Mundus Suhterraneus, various wonders
respecting this lake, most of which are unfounded — such
as that it is unfathomable, that it has at the bottom the
heat of boiling water, and that floating islands rise from
the gulf which emits it. It must certainly be very diffi-
cult, or even impossible to fathom a source, w^hich rises
with so much violence from a subterraneous excavation ;
and, at a time when chemistry had made small progress,
it was easy to mistake the disengagement of carbonic
acid for an actual ebullition. The floating islands are
real ; but neither the Jesuit nor any of the writers who
have since described this lake, had a correct idea of
their origin, which is exceedingly curious. The high
temperature of this water, and the quantity of carbonic
acid that it contains, render it peculiarly fitted to afford
a pabulum or nourishment to vegetable life ; the banks
of travertine are everywhere covered with reeds, lichens,
confervae, and various kinds of aquatic vegetables ; and,
at the same time that the process of vegetable life is
going on, the crystallizations of the calcareous matter,
which is everywhere deposited, in consequence of the
escape of carbonic acid, likewise proceed, giving a con-
stant milkiness to what, from its tint, would otherwise
be a blue fluid. So rapid is the vegetation, owing to

288 DIALOGUE III.

the decomposition of the carbonic acid, that even in
winter, masses of confervas and lichens, mixed with de-
posited travertine, are constantly detached by the cur-
rents of water from the bank, and float down the stream,
which, being a considerable river, is never without
many of these small islands on its surface : they are
sometimes only a few inches in size, and composed
merely of dark-green confervse, or purple or yellow
lichens; but they are sometimes even of some feet in
diameter, and contain seeds, and various species of
common water-plants, which are usually more or less
incrusted with marble. There is, I believe, no place
in the world where there is a more striking example of
the opposition, or contrast of the laws of animate and
inanimate nature, of the forces of inorganic chemical
affinity, and those of the powers of life. Vegeta])les, in
such a temperature, and everywhere surrounded by food,
are produced with a wonderful rapidity ; but the crys--
tallizations are formed with equal quickness, and they
are no sooner produced, than they are destroyed
together. Notwithstanding the sulphureous exhalations
from the lake, the quantity of vegetable matter generated
there, and its heat, make it the resort of an infinite va-
riety of insect tribes : and even in the coldest days in
winter, numbers of flies may be observed on the vege-
tables surrounding its banks, or on its floating islands,
and a quantity of their larvae may be seen there, some-
times incrusted and entirely destroyed by calcareous
matter, which is likewise often the fate of the insects
themselves, as well as of various species of shell-fish
that are found amongst the vegetables, which grow and
are destroyed in the travertine on its banks. Snipes,
ducks, and various water-birds often visit these lakes,
probably attracted by the temperature, and the quantity

THE UNKNOWN. 289

of food in which they abound ; but they usually confine
themselves to the banks, as the carbonic acid disengaged
from the surface would be fatal to them, if they ventured
to swim upon it when tranquil. In May, 18 — , I fixed
a stick on a mass of travertine covered by the water, and
I examined it in the beginning of the April following,
for the purpose of determining the nature of the depo-
sitions. The water was lower at this time, yet I had
some difficulty, by means of a sharp-pointed hammer, in
breaking the mass which adhered to the bottom of the
stick ; it w^as several inches in thickness. The upper
part was a mixture of light tufa and the leaves of con-
fervse; below this, was a darker and more solid travertine,
containing black and decomposed masses of confervse ;
in the inferior part, the travertine w^as more solid, and
of a grey colour, but with cavities, which I have no
doubt w^ere produced by the decomposition of vegetable
matter. I have passed many hours, I may say, many
days, in studying the phenomena of this wonderful lake ;
it has brought many trains of thought into my mind,
connected wdtli the early changes of our globe, and I
have sometimes reasoned from the forms of plants and
animals preserved in marble in this warm source, to the
grander depositions in the secondary rocks, where the
zoophytes or coral insects have worked upon a grand
scale, and where palms and vegetables, now unknown,
are preserved with the remains of crocodiles, turtles,
and gigantic extinct animals of the sauri genus, and
which appear to have belonged to a period when the
whole globe possessed a much higher temperature. I
have likewise often been led from the remarkable phe-
nomena surrounding me in that spot, to compare the
works of man with those of nature. The baths, erected
there nearl}^ twenty centuries ago, present only heaps

VOL. IX. O

290 DIALOGUE III.

of ruins ; and even the bricks^ of which they were built,
though hardened by fire, are crumbled into dust, whilst
the masses of travertine around it, though formed by a
variable source from the most perishable materials, have
hardened by time, and the most perfect remains of the
greatest ruins in the eternal city, such as the triumphal
arches and the Colosseum, owe their duration to this source.
Then, from all wc know, this lake, except in some change
in its dimensions, continues nearly in the same state in
which it was described 1700 j^ears ago by Pliny, and I
have no doubt contains the same kinds of floating islands,
the same plants and the same insects. During the fif-
teen years that I have known it, it has appeared precisely
identical in these respects ; and yet^ it has the charac-
ter of an accidental phenomenon depending upon sub-
terraneous fire. How m.arvellous then are those laws by
which even the humblest types of organic existence are
preserved, though born amidst the sources of their de-
struction, and by which a species of immortality is given
to generations floating, as it were, like evanescent bub-
bles, on a stream raised from the deepest caverns of the
earth, and instantl}^ losing what may be called its spirit
in the atmosphere." — These last observations of the
stranger recalled to my recollection some phenomena
v»^hich I had observed many years ago, and of which I
could then give no satisfactory explanation. I was
shooting in the marshes which surround the ruins of
Gabia, and where there are still remains supposed to be
of the Alexandrine aqueduct ; I observed a small in-
sulated hill, apparently entirely composed of travertine,
and from its summit there were formations of tufa,
which had evidently been produced by running water ;
but the whole mass was now perfectly dry and incrusted
by vegetables. At first I suspected that this little moun-

THE UNKNOWN. 291

tain had been formed by a jet of calcareous water, — a
kind of small fountain anaLwous to the Geiscr, which
had deposited travertine, and continued to rise through
the basin flowing from a higher level ; but the irregular
form of the eminence did not correspond to this idea,
and I remained perplexed with the fact, and unable to
satisfy myself as to its cause. The views of the stranger
appeared to me now to make it probable that the calca-
reous water had issued from ancient leaks in the aque-
duct, and formed a hillock that had encased the bricks
of the erection, which, in other parts where not en-
crusted by travertine, had become entirely decayed, de-
graded and removed from the soil. I mentioned the
circumstance, and my suspicion of its nature. The
stranger said, " You are perfectly correct in your idea.
I know the spot well, and if you had not mentioned it, I
should probably have quoted it as an instance in which
the works of art are preserved, as it were, by th^ acci-
dents of nature. I was so struck by this appearance last
year, that I had the travertine partially removed by
some workmen, and I found beneath it the canal of the
aqueduct in a perfect state, and the bricks of the arches
as uninjured as if freshly laid.'' The stranger had hardly
concluded this sentence, when he was interrupted by
Onuphrio, who said, " I have always supposed, that in
every geological system water is considered as the cause
of the destruction or degradation of the surface ; but, in
all the instances that you have mentioned, it appears
rather as a conservative power, not destroying, but ra-
ther producing." " It is the general vice of philoso-
phical systems," replied the stranger, " that they are
usually founded upon a few facts, which they well ex-
plain, and are extended by the human fancy to all the
phenomena of nature, to many of which they must be

o2

292 DIALOGUE III.

contradictory. The human intellectual powers are so
feeble, that they can, with difficulty, embrace a single
series of phenomena, and they consequently must fail
Avhen extended to the whole of nature. Water by its
common operation, as poured down from the atmosphere
in rain and torrents, tends to level and degrade the sur-
face, and carries the material of the land into the bosom
of the ocean. Fire, on the contrary, in volcanic erup-
tions, usually raises mountains, exalts the surface, and
creates islands even in the midst of the sea. But these
laws are not invariable, as the instances to which we
have just referred prove ; and parts of the surface of the
globe are sometimes destroyed even by fire, of which
examples may be seen in the Phlegrsean fields ; and
islands, raised by one volcanic eruption, have been im-
merged in the sea by another. There are, in fact, no
accidents in nature ; what we call accidents are the re-
sults of general laws in particular operation, but we can-
not deduce these laws from the particular operation, or
the general order from the partial result." Ambrosio
said to the stranger, " You appear, Sir, to have paid so
much attention to physical phenomena, that few things
would give us more pleasure than to know your opinion
respecting the early changes and physical history of the
globe, for I perceive you do not belong to the modern
geological schools." The stranger said, " I have cer-
tainly formed opinions, or rather speculations on these
subjects, but I fear they are hardly worth communicat-
ing; they have sometimes amused me in hours of idle-
ness, but I doubt if they will amuse others." I said,
" The observations which you have already been so kind
as to communicate to us, on the formation of the traver-
tine, lead us not only to expect amusement, but likewise
instruction."

THE UNKx\OWN. 293

The Stranger. — On these matters I had facts to
communicate ; on the geological scheme of the early
history of the globe there are only analogies to guide us,
which diiferent minds may apply and interpret in dif-
ferent ways ; but, I will not trifle with a long prelimi-
nary discourse. Astronomical deductions and actual
measures by triangulation prove, that the globe is an
oblate spheroid flattened at the poles ; and, this form we
know, by strict mathematical demonstrations, is pre-
cisely the one which a fluid body revolving round its
axis, and become solid at its surface by the slow dissipa-
tion of its heat or other causes, would assume. I sup-
pose, therefore, that the globe, in the first state in which
the imagination can venture to consider it, was a fluid
mass, with an immense atmosphere revolving in space
round the sun, and that by its cooling, a portion of its
atmosphere was condensed in water, which occupied a
part of the surface. In this state, no forms of life, such
as now belong to our system, could have inhabited it ;
and, I suppose the crystalline rocks, or as they are called
by geologists, the primar}^ rocks, which contain no ves-
tiges of a former order of things, were the results of the
first consolidation on its surface. Upon the further
cooling, the water, which more or less had covered it,
contracted ; depositions took place, shell fish and coral
insects of the first creation began their labours ; and
islands appeared in the midst of the ocean, raised from
the deep by the productive energies of millions of zoo-
phytes. These islands became covered with vegetables
fitted to bear a high temperature, such as palms and
various species of plants, similar to those Avhich now
exist in the hottest parts of the world. And, the sub-
marine rocks or shores of these new formations of land
became covered with aquatic vegetables, on which va-

294 DIALOGUE III.

rious species of shell-fish and common fishes found their
nourishment. The fluids of the globe in cooling depo-
sited a large quantity of the materials they held in solu-
tion, and these deposits agglutinating together the sand,
the immense masses of coral rock, and some of the re-
mains of the shells and fishes found round the shores of
the primitive lands, produced the first order of second-
ary rocks. As the temperature of the globe became
lower, species of the oviparous reptiles were created to
inhabit it ; — and the turtle, crocodile, and various gigan-
tic animals of the sauri kind, seem to have haunted the
bays and waters of the primitive lands. But in this
state of things there was no order of events similar to
the present ; — the crust of the globe was exceedingly
slender, and the source of fire a small distance from the
surface. In consequence of contraction in one part of
the mass, cavities were opened, which caused the en-
trance of water, and immense volcanic explosions took
place, raising one part of the surface, depressing ano-
ther, producing mountains, and causing new and ex-
tensive depositions from the primitive ocean, ('hanges
of this kind must have been extremely frequent in the
early epochas of nature ; and the only living forms of
which the remains are found in the strata that are the
monuments of these changes, are those of plants, fishes,
birds, and oviparous reptiles, which seem most fitted to
exist in such a war of the elements. When these revo-
lutions became less frequent, and the globe became
still more cooled, and the inequalities of its tempera-
ture preserved by the mountain chains, more perfect
animals became its inhabitants, many of which, such as
the mammoth, megalonix, megatherium, and gigantic
hyena, are now extinct. At this period, the tempera-
ture of the ocean seems to have been not much higher

THE UNKNOWN. 295

than it is at present, and the changes produced, by oc-
casional eruptions of it, have left no consolidated rocks.
Yet, one of these eruptions appears to have been of great
extent and some duration, and seems to have been the
cause of those immense quantities of water-worn stones,
gravel, and sand, which are usually called diluvian re-
mains ; and, it is probable that this effect was connected
with the elevation of a new continent in the southern
hemisphere by volcanic fire. When the system of things
became so permanent, that the tremendous revolutions,
depending upon the destruction of the equilibrium be-
tween the heating and cooling agencies, were no longer
to be dreaded, the creation of man took place ; and since
that period there has been little alteration in the phy-
sical circumstances of our globe. Volcanos sometimes
occasion the rise of new islands, portions of the old con-
tinents are constantly washed by rivers into the sea, but
these changes are too in3io;nificant to affect the destinies
of man, or the nature of the physical circumstances of
things. On the hypothesis that I have adopted, how-
ever, it must be remembered, that the present surface of
the globe is merely a thin crust surrounding a nucleus
of fluid ignited matter ; and consequently we can hardly
be considered as actually safe from the danger of a catas-
trophe by fire.

Onuphrio said, " From the view you have taken, I
conclude that you consider volcanic eruptions as owing
to the central fire ; indeed their existence offers, I think,
an argument for believing that the interior of the globe
is fluid." The stranger answered ; " I beg you to con-
sider the views I have been developing as merely hypo-
thetical, one of the many resting places that may be
taken by the imagination in considering this subject.
There are, however, distinct facts in favour of the idea,

296 DIALOGUE III.

that the interior of the globe has a higher temperature
than the surface ; the heat increasing in mines the deeper
we penetrate, and the number of warm sources which
rise from great depths, in almost all countries, are cer-
tainly favourable to the idea. The opinion that volcanos
are owing to this general and simple cause, is I think
likewise more agreeable to the analogies of things, than
to suppose them dependent upon partial chemical
changes, such as the action of air and water upon the
combustible bases of the earths and alkalies, though it
is extremely probable that these substances may exist
beneath the surface, and may occasion some results of
volcanic fire ; and, on this subject, my notion may per-
haps be more trusted, as for a long while I thought
"volcanic eruptions were owing to chemical agencies of
the newly discovered metals of the earths and alkalies,
and I made many and some dangerous experiments in
the hope of confirming this notion, but in vain."

Amb. — We are very much obliged to you for your
geological illustrations ; but they remind me a little of
some of the ideas of our friend Philalethes in his re-
markable vision, and with which we may at some time
amuse you in return for your geology, should we be
honoured wdth more of your company. You are
obliged to have recourse to creations for all the living
beings in ^^our philosophical romance ; I do not see why
you should not suppose creations or arrangements of
dead matter by the same laws of infinite wisdom, and
why our globe should not rise at once a divine \vork
fitted for all the objects of living and intelligent
natures.

The stranger replied. " I have merely attempted a
philosophical history founded upon the facts known
respecting rocks and strata and the remains they con-

THE UNKNOWN. 297

tain. I begin with what may be considered a creation,
a fluid globe supplied with an immense atmosphere,
and the series of phenomena which I imagine conse-
quent to the creation, I suppose produced by powers
impressed upon matter by omnipotence."

Ambrosio said, " There is this verisimility in your
history, that it is not contradictory to the little we are
informed by revelation as to the origin of the globe, the
order produced in the chaotic state, and the succession
of living forms generated in the days of creation, which
may be what philosophers call ' the epochas of nature,'
for a day with omnipotence is as a thousand years, and
a thousand years as one day."

"I must object," Onuphrio said, "to your interpre-
tation of the scientific view of our new acquaintance,
and to your disposition to blend them with the cosmo-
gony of Moses. Allowing the divine origin of the book
of Genesis, you must admit that it was not intended to
teach the Jews systems of philosophy, but the laws ot
life and morals ; and a great man and an exalted
Christian raised his voice two centuries ago against this
mode of applying and of often wresting the sense of the
scriptures to make them conformable to human fancies;
^ from which,' says Lord Bacon, ' arise not only false
and fantastical philosophies, but likewise heretical re-
ligions.' If the scriptures are to be literally interpreted
and systems of science found in them, Gallileo Gallilei
merited his persecution, and we ought still to believe
that the sun turns round the earth."

Amb. — You mistake my view, Onuphrio, if you
imagine I am desirous of raising a system of geology on
the book of Genesis. It cannot be doubted that the
first man was created with a great variety of instinctive
or inspired knowledge, which must have been likewise

o5

298 DIALOGUE III.

enjoyed by his descendants; and some of this know-
ledge could hardly fail to have related to the globe
which he inhabited and to the objects which surrounded
him. It would have been impossible for the human
mind to have embraced the mysteries of creation ; or to
have followed the history of the moving atoms from
their chaotic disorder into their arrangement in the
visible universe, to have seen dead matter assuming the
forms of life and animation, and light and power arising
out of death and sleep. The ideas therefore trans-
mitted to or presented by Moses respecting the origin
of the world and of man were of the most simple kind,
and such as suited the early state of society ; but,
though general and simple truths, they were divine
truths, yet clothed in a language and suited to the ideas
of a rude and uninstructed people. And, when I state
my satisfaction in finding that they are not contradicted
by the refined researches of modern geologists, 1 do
not mean to deduce from them a system of science.
I believe that light was the creation of an act of
the divine will, but I do not mean to say that the
words "Let there be light, and there was light,"
were orally spoken by the Deity ; nor, do I mean to
imply, that the modern discoveries respecting light
are at all connected with this sublime and magnificent
passage.

Onu. — Having resided for a long time at Edinburgh,
and having heard a number of discussions on the
theory of Dr. Hutton, or the plutonic theory of geolog}'',
and having been exceedingly struck both by its simplicity
and beauty, its harmony w^ith existing facts and the
proofs afforded to it by some beautiful chemical experi-
ments, I do not feel disposed immediately to renounce
it for the views which I have just heard explained ; for

THE UNKNOWN. 299

the principal facts which our new acquaintance has
stated are, I think, not inconsistent with the refined
philosophical systems of Professor Playfair and Sir
James Hall.

The Unknown.— I have no objection to the refined
plutouic view, as capable of explaining many existing
phenomena ; indeed you must be aware, that I have my-
self had recourse to it. What I contend against is, its
appUcation to explain the formations of the secondary
rocks, which I think clearly belong to an order of facts
not at all embraced by it. In the plutonic system, there
is one simple and constant order assumed, which may
be supposed eternal. The surface is constantly imagined
to be disintegrated, destroyed, degraded and washed
into the bosom of the ocean by water, and as constantly
consolidated, elevated and regenerated by fire ; and, the
ruins of the old form the foundations of the new world.
It is supposed that there are always the same types both
of dead and living matter, that the remains of rocks, of
vegetables and animals of one age are found imbedded
in rocks raised from the bottom of the ocean in another.
Now to support this view, not only the remains of
living beings, which at present people the globe, might
be expected to be found in the oldest secondary strata ;
but even those of the arts of man, the most powerful
and populous of its inhabitants, w^hich is well known
not to be the case. On the contrary, each stratum of
the secondary rocks contains remains of peculiar and
mostly now unknown species of vegetables and animals.
In those strata which are deepest, and which must con-
sequently be supposed to be the earliest deposited,
forms even of vegetable life are rare ; shells and
vegetable remains are found in the next order; the
bones of fishes and oviparous reptiles exist in the fol-

•^00 DIALOGUE Hi.

lowing class ; the remains of birds, with those of the
«ame genera mentioned before, in the next order ; those
of quadrupeds of extinct species, in a still more recent
class ; and, it is only in the loose and slightly con-
solidated strata of gravel and sand, and which are
usually called diluvian formations, that the remains of
animals, such as now people the globe, are found
with others belonging to extinct species. But in none
of these formations, whether called secondary, tertiary,
or diluvial, have the remains of man or any of his works
been discovered. It is, I think, impossible to consider
the organic remains found in any of the earlier secon-
dary strata, the lias-limestone, and its congenerous for-
mations, for instance, without being convinced that the
beings, whose organs they formed, belonged to an order
of things entirely different from the present. Gigantic
vegetables, more nearly allied to the palms of the equa-
torial countries than to any other plants, can only be
imagined to have lived in a very high temperature ; and
the immense reptiles, the megalosauri, with paddles in-
stead of legs, and clothed in mail, in size equal, or even
superior, to the whale ; and the great amphibia, plethio-
sauri with bodies like turtles, but furnished with necks
longer than their bodies, probably to enable them to
feed on vegetables growing in the shallows of the pri-
mitive ocean, seem to show a state in which low lands
or extensive shores rose above an immense calm sea,
— and when there were no great mountain chains to
produce inequalities of temperature, tempests, or storms.
Were the surface of the earth now to be carried down
into the depths of the ocean, or were some great revo-
lution of the waters to cover the existing land, and it
was again to be elevated by fire, covered with consoli-
dated depositions of sand or mud, how entirely different

THE UNKNOWN. 301

would it be in its characters from any of the secondary
strata. Its great features would undoubtedly be the
works of man ; hewn stones and statues of bronze and
marble, and tools of iron, and human remains would be
more common than those of animals, on the greatest part
of the surface; the columns of Psestum or of Agrigen-
tum, or the immense iron and granite bridges of the
Thames, would offer a striking contrast to the bones of
the crocodiles or sauri in the older rocks, or even to
those of the mammoth or elephas primigenius in the
diluvial strata. And, whoever dwells upon this subject,
must be convinced that the present order of things and
the comparatively recent existence of man, as the master
of the globe, is as certain as the destruction of a former
and a diiferent order, and the extinction of a number of
living forms which have now no types in being, and which
have left their remains wonderful monuments of the re-
volutions of nature.

Ojqu. — I am not quite convinced by your arguments.
Supposing the lands of New Holland were to be washed
into the depths of the ocean, and to be raised, according
to the Huttonian view, as a secondary stratum, by sub-
terraneous fire, they would contain the remains of both
vegetables and animals entirely different from any found
in the strata of the old continents ; and may not those
peculiar formations to which you have referred, be, as it
were, accidents of nature belonging to peculiar parts of
the globe ? And, you speak of a diluvian formation,
which I conclude you would identify with that belong-
ing to the catastrophe described in the sacred writings,
in which no human remains are found ; now, you surely
will not deny, that man existed at the time of this catas-
trophe, and he consequently may have existed at the
period of the other revolutions, which are supposed to

302 DIALOGUE III.

be produced in the Iluttonian views by subterraneous
fire.

The Unknown. — I have made use of the term diki-
vian, because it has been adopted by geologists, but
without meaning to identify the cause of the formations
with the deluge described in the sacred writings; I
apply the term merely to signify loose and water-worn
strata not at all consolidated, and deposited by an inun-
dation of water ; and in these countries which they have
covered, man certainly did not exist. With respect to
your argument derived from New Holland, it appears to
me to be without w^eight. In a variety of climates, and
in very distant parts of the globe, secondary strata of the
same order are found, and ihey contain always the same
kind of organic remains, which are entirely different
from any of those now afforded by beings belonging to
the existing order of things. The catastrophes which
produced the secondary strata and diluvian depositions,
could not have been local and partial phenomena, but
must have extended over the wdiole, or a great part of
the surface of the globe : the remains of similar shell
fishes are found in the limestones of the old and new
continents ; the teeth of the mammoth are not uncom-
mon in various parts of Europe ; entire skeletons have
been found in America, and even the skin covered with
hair and the entire body of one of these enormous ex-
tinct animals has been discovered in Siberia preserved
in a mass of ice. In the oldest secondary strata, there
are no remains of such animals as now belong to the sur-
face, and in the rocks which may be regarded as more
recently deposited, these remains occur but rarely and
with abundance of extinct species; — there seems, as it
w^ere, a gradual approach to the present system of things
and a succession of destructions and creations prepara-

THE UNKNOWN. 303

tory to the existence of man. It will be useless to push
these arguments farther. You must allow that it is im-
possible to defend the proposition, that the present order
of things, is the ancient and constant order of nature,
only modified by existing laws, and consequently, the
view which you have supported must be abandoned.
The monuments of extinct generations of animals are as
perfect as those of extinct nations; and it would be
more reasonable to suppose that the pillars and temples
of Palmyra were raised by the wandering Arabs of the
desert, than to imagine that the vestiges of peculiar ani-
mated forms in the strata beneath the surface belonged
to the early and infant families of the beings that at
present inhabit it.

Onu. — I am convinced; — I shall push my arguments
no further, for I will not support the sophisms of that
school, which supposes that living nature has undergone
gradual changes by the effects of its irritabilities and
appetencies ; that the fish has in millions of generations
ripened into the quadruped, and the quadruped into
the man ; and that the system of life by its own inherent
powers has fitted itself to the physical changes in the
system of the universe. To this absurd, vague, atheis-
tical doctrine, I prefer even the dream of plastic powers,
or that other more modern dream, that the secondary
strata were created, filled with remains as it were of
animal life to confound the speculations of our geologi-
cal reasoners.

The Unknown. — I am glad you have not retreated
into the desert and defenceless wilderness of scepticism,
or of false and feeble philosophy. I should not have
thought it worth my while to have followed you there ;
I should as soon think of arguing with the peasant who
informs me that the basaltic columns of Antrim or of

804 DIALOGUE III.

Staffa Avere the works of human art, and raised by the
giant FinmacoLd.

At this moment, one of our servants came to in-
form me, that a dinner which had been preparing
for us at the farm-house was ready ; — we asked the
stranger to do us the honour to partake of our repast ;
he assented, and the following conversation took place
at table.

Phil. — In reflecting upon our discussions this morn-
ing, I cannot help being a little surprised at their na-
ture ; we have been talking only of geological systems,
when a more natural subject for our conversation would
have been these magnificent temples, and an inquiry
into the race by whom they were raised and the gods to
whom there were dedicated. We are now treading on
a spot which contains the bones of a highly civilized
and powerful people ; yet we are almost ignorant of the
names they bore, and the period of their greatness is
lost in the obscurit}^ of time.

Amb. — There can be no doubt that the early inhabi-
tants of this city were Grecians and a maritime and
commercial people ; — they have been supposed to be-
long to the Sybarite race, and the roses producing
flowers twice a-year in the spring and autumn in ancient
times here, might sanction the idea that this balmy spot
was chosen by a colony who carried luxury and refine-
ment to the highest pitch.

Onu. — To attempt to form any opinion with respect
to the people that anciently inhabited these now de-
serted plains is useless, and a vain labour. In the geo-
logical conversation which took place before dinner,
some series of interesting facts were presented to us ;
and the monuments of nature, though they do not
speak a distinct language, yet speak an intelligible one ;

THE UNKNOWN. 305

— but with respect to Paestum, there is neither history
nor tradition to guide us ; and we shall do wisely to
resume our philosophical inquiries, if we have not already
exhausted the patience of our new guest by doubts or
objections to his views.

The Stranger. — One of you referred in our con-
versation this morning to a vision, which had some rela-
tion to the subject of our discussion, and I was promised
some information on this matter.

I immediately gave a sketch of my vision, and of the
opinions which had been expressed by Ambrosio on the
early history of man, and the termination of our discus-
sions on religion.

The Stranger. — I agree with Ambrosio in opinion
on the subjects you have just mentioned. In my youth,
I was a sceptic ; and this I believe is usually the case
with young persons given to general and discursive
reading, and accustomed to adopt something like a ma-
thematical form in their reasonings ; and it was in con-
sidering the nature of the intellectual faculties of brutes,
as compared with those of man, and in examining the
nature of instinctive powers, that I became a believer.
After I had formed the idea that revelation was to man
in the place of an instinct, my faith constantly became
stronger ; and it was exalted by many circumstances I
had occasion to witness in a journey that I made through
Egypt and a part of Asia Minor, and by no one more
than by a very remarkable dream which occurred to me
in Palestine, and which, as we are now almost at the
hour of the siesta, I will relate to you, though perhaps
you will be asleep before I have finished it. I was walk-
ing along that deserted shore which contains the ruins
of Ptolemais, one of the most ancient ports of Judaea.
It w^as evening ; the sun was sinking in the sea ; I seated

306 DIALOGUE III.

mj^self on a rock, lost in melancholy contemplations on
the destinies of a spot once so famous in the history of
man. The calm Mediterranean, bright in the glowing
light of the west, was the only object before me. ^' These
waves," I said to myself, " once bore the ships of the
monarch of Jerusalem, which were freighted with the
riches of the East to adorn and honour the sanctuary of
Jehovah : here are now no remains of greatness or of
commerce, a few red stones and broken bricks only
mark what might have been once a flourishing port, and
the citadel above, raised by the Saracens, is filled with
Turkish soldiers." The janissary, who was my guide,
and my servant, w^ere preparing some food for me in a
tent Avhich had been raised for the purpose, and w^hilst
waiting for their summons to my repast, I continued
my reveries, which must gradually have ended in slum-
ber. I saw a man approaching towards me, whom, at
first, I took for my janissary, but as he came nearer I
found a very different figure ; he w^as a very old man
with a beard as white as snow ; his countenance was
dark, but paler than that of an Arab, and his features
stern, wild, and with a peculiar, savage expression ; his
form was gigantic, but his arms were withered, and
there was a large scar on the left side of his face w^hich
seemed to have deprived him of an eye. He w^ore a
black turban and black flowing robes, and there was a
large chain round his waist which clanked as he moved.
It occurred to me that he w^as one of the santons or
sacred madmen so common in the East, and I retired as
he approached towards me. He called out *' Fly not,
stranger, fear me not, I will not harm you, you shall
hear my story, it may be useful to you." He spoke in
Arabic, but in a peculiar dialect and to me new, yet I
understood every word. '' You see before you," he

THE UNKNOWN. 307

said, " a man who was educated a Christian, but who
renounced the worship of the one supreme God for the
superstitions of the pagans. I became an apostate in
the reign of the emperor Juhan, and I was employed
by that sovereign to superintend the re-erection of the
temple of Jerusalem, by which it was intended to belie
the prophecies and give the death-blow to the holy
religion. History has informed you of the result ; my
assistants were most of them destroyed in a tremendous
storm, I was blasted by lightning from heaven (he raised
his withered hand to his face and eye) but suffered to
live, and expiate my crime in the flesh. My life has
been spent in constant and severe penance, and in that
suffering of the spirit produced by guilt, and is to be
continued as long as any part of the temple of Jupiter
in which I renounced my faith, remains in this place. I
have lived through fifteen tedious centuries, but I trust
in the mercies of Omnipotence, and I hope my atone-
ment is completed. I now stand in the dust of the
pagan temple. You have just thrown the last fragment
of it over the rock. My time is arrived, I come ! " As
he spake the last words, he rushed towards the sea,
threw himself from the rock and disappeared. I heard
no struggling, and saw^ nothing but a gleam of light
from the wave that closed above him. I was now roused
by the cries of my servant and of the janissary, who
were shaking my arm, and who informed me that my
sleep was so sound that they were alarmed for me.
When I looked on the sea, there was the same light,
and I seemed to see the very spot in the wave vvhere
the old man had sunk. I was so struck by the vision,
that I asked if they had not seen something dash into
the wave, and if they had not heard somebody speaking
to me as they arrived. Of course their answers were

308 DIALOGUE III.

negative. In passing through Jerusalem and in coast-
ing the Dead Sea I had been exceedingly struck by the
present state of Judaea and the conformity of the fate
of the Jewish nation to the predictions of our Saviour ;
I had Hkewise been reading Gibbon's eulogy of Julian,
and his account of the attempts made by that emperor
to rebuild the temple : so that the dream at such a time
and in such a place was not an unnatural occurrence,
yet it was so vivid, and the image of the subject of it
so peculiar, that it long affected my imagination, and
whenever I recurred to it, strengthened my faith.

Onu. — I believe all the narratives of apparitions and
ghost stories are founded upon dreams of the same kind
as that which occurred to you ; an ideal representation
of events in the local situation in w^hich the person is at
the moment, and when the imaginary picture of the
place in sleep exactl}^ coincides with its reality in waking.

The Stranger, — I agree with you in your opinion.
If my servant had not been with me, and my dream
had been a little less improbable, it would have been
difficult to have persuaded me that I had not been
visited by an apparition.

I mentioned the dream of Brutus, and said, " His
supposed evil genius appeared in his tent ; had the phi-
losophical hero dreamt that his genius had appeared to
him in Rome, there could have been no delusion." I
cited the similar vision, recorded of Dion before his
death, by Plutarch, of a gigantic female, one of the fates
or furies, who was supposed to have been seen by him
when reposing in the portico of his palace, I referred
likewise to my own vision of the beautiful female, the
guardian angel of my recovery, who always seemed to
me to be present at my bedside.

Amb. — In confirmation of this opinion of Onuphrio,

THE UNKNOWN". 309

I can mention many instances. I once dreamt that my
door had been forced, that there were robbers in my
room, and that one of them was actually putting his
hand before my mouth to ascertain if I was sleeping
naturally ; I awoke at this moment, and was some mi-
nutes before I could be sure whether it was a dream or
a reality ; I felt the pressure of the bedclothes on my
lips, and still in the fear of being murdered, continued
to keep my eyes closed and to breathe slowly, till hear-
ing nothing and finding no motion, I ventured to open
my eyes, but even then, when I saw nothing, I was not
sure that my impression was a dream till I had risen
from my bed and ascertained that the door was still
locked.

Onu. — I am the only one of the party unable to
record any dreams of the vivid and peculiar nature you
mention from my own experience ; I conclude it is
owing to the dulness of my imagination. I suppose the
more intense power of reverie is a symptom of the
poetical temperament ; and perhaps, if I possessed more
enthusiasm, I should always have possessed more of the
religious instinct. To adopt the idea of Philalethes of
hereditary character, I fear my forefathers have not
been correct in their faith.

Amb. — Your glory will be greater in establishing a
new character, and I trust even the conversation of this
day has given you an additional reason to adopt our
faith.

Ambrosio spoke these last words with an earnestness
unusual in him, and with something of a tone which
marked a zeal for proselytism, and at the same time he
cast his eyes on the rosary which was suspended round
the neck of the stranger, and said, *^ I hope I am not
indiscreet in savino; our faith."

310 DIALOGUE III.

The Stranger. — I was educated in the ritual of the
church of England; I belong to the church of Christ;
the rosary which you see suspended round my neck, is a
memorial of sympathy and respect for an illustrious man.
I will, if you will allow me, give you the history of it,
which, I think, from the circumstances with which it is
connected, you will not find devoid of interest. I was
passing through France in the reign of Napoleon, by
the peculiar privilege granted to a savant, on my road
into Italy. I had just returned from the Holy Land,
and had in my possession two or three of the rosaries
which are sold to pilgrims at Jerusalem as having been
suspended in the holy sepulchre. Pius VII. was then
in imprisonment at Fontainbleau. By a special favour,
on a plea of my return from the Holy Land, I obtained
permission to see this venerable and illustrious pontiff.
I carried with me one of my rosaries. He received me
with great kindness ; I tendered my services to execute
any commissions, not political ones, he might think fit
to entrust me with in Italy, informing him that I was an
Englishman ; he expressed his thanks, but declined
troubling me. I told him I was just returned from the
Holy Land, and bowing with great humility, offered to
him my rosary from the holy sepulchre ; he received it
with a smile, touched it with his lips, gave his benedic-
tion over it and returned it into my hands, supposing of
course that I was a Roman catholic. I had meant to
present it to his holiness^ but the blessing he had
bestowed upon it and the touch of his lips, made it a
precious relic to me, and I restored it to my neck, round
which it has ever since been suspended. He asked me
some unimportant questions respecting the state of the
Christians at Jerusalem ; and on a sudden, turned the
subject much to my surprise, to the destruction of the

THE UNKNOWN. 311

French in Russia, and in an exceedingly low tone of
voice, as if afraid of being overheard, he said, " The
nefas has long been triumphant over the fas, but I do
not doubt that the balance of things is even now re-
storing, that God will vindicate his church, clear his
polluted altars, and establish society upon its permanent
basis of justice and faith; we shall meet again, adieu!"
and he gave me his paternal blessing. It was eighteen
months after this interview, that I went out w^ith almost
the whole population of Rome, to receive and welcome
the triumphal entry of this illustrious father of the
church into his capital. He was borne on the shoulders
of the most distinguished artists, headed by Canova ;
and never shall I forget the enthusiasm with which he
was received, — it is impossible to describe the shouts of
triumph and of rapture sent up to heaven by every
voice. And when he gave his benediction to the
people, there was an universal prostration, a sobbing
and marks of emotions of joy almost like the bursting
of the heart ; I heard, every where around me cries of
" the holy Father, the most holy Father, his restoration
is the work of God !" I saw tears streaming from the
eyes of almost all the women about me, many of them
were sobbing hysterically, and old men were weeping
as if they had been children. I pressed my rosary
to my breast on this occasion, and repeatedly touched
with my lips, that part of it which had received the kiss
of the most venerable pontiff. I preserve it with a kind
of hallowed feeling as the memorial of a man, whose
sanctity, firmness, meekness and benevolence are an
honour to his church and to human nature ; and it
has not only been useful to me, by its influence upon
my own mind, but it has enabled me to give pleasure to
others, and has I believe been sometimes beneficial in

312 DIALOGUE III.

insuring mj personal safety. I have often gratified the
peasants of Apulia and Calabria by presenting them to
kiss a rosary from the holy sepulchre which had been
hallowed by the touch of the Hps and benediction of
the pope ; and, it has been even respected by and pro-
cured me a safe passage through a party of brigands,
who once stopped me in the passes of the Apennines.

Gnu. — The use you have made of this relic puts me
in mind of a device of a very ingenious geological phi-
losopher now living. He was on Etna and busily em-
ployed in making a collection of the lavas formed from
the igneous currents of that mountain ; the peasants
were often troublesome to him, suspecting that he was
searching for treasures. It occurred to him, to make
the following speech to them; "I have been a great
sinner in my youth, and as a penance I have made a
vow to carry away with me pieces of every kind of stone
found upon the mountain ; permit me quietly to per-
form my pious duty, that I may receive absolution for
my sins." The speech produced the desired effect; the
peasants shouted, " the holy man, the saint," and gave
him every assistance in their power to enable him to
carry off his burthen, and he made his ample collections
with the utmost security and in the most agreeable
manner.

The Stranger. — I do not approve of pious frauds
even for philosophical purposes : my rosary excited in
others, the same kind of feeling which it excited in my
own bosom, and which I hold to be perfectly justifiable,
and of which I shall never be ashamed.

Amb — You must have travelled in Italy in very
dangerous times ; have you always been secure ?

The Stranger. — Always ; I have owed my security,
partly, as I have said, to my rosary, but more to my

THE UNKNOWN. 313

dress and my acquaintance with the dialect of the
natives ; I have always carried with me a peasant as a
guide, who has been intrusted with the small sums of
money I wanted for my immediate purposes, and my
baggage has been little more than a cynic philosopher
would have carried with him, and when I have been
unable to walk, I have trusted myself to the conduct of
a vetturino, a native of the province, with his single
mule and caratella.

The sun was now setting, and the temple of Neptune
was glowing with its last purple rays. We were in-
formed that our horses were waiting, and that it was
time for us to depart to our lodgings at Eboli. I asked
the stranger to be our companion, and to do us the
honour to accept of a seat in our carriage : he declined
the invitation, and said "my bed is prepared in the
casina here for this night, and to-morrow I proceed on
a journey connected with scientific objects in the parts
of Calabria the scene of the terrible earthquakes of
1783." I held out my hand to him in parting, he
gave it a strong and warm pressure, and said, " Adieu,
we shall meet again." '

'O^

DIALOGUE THE FouRTii^ci:. !i!i:i':::_. '' '^'"^

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY.

The impression made upon my mind by the stranger,
with whom we became acquainted at Psestum, was of
the strongest and most extraordinary kind. The
memory of his person, his dress, his manners, the
accents of his voice, and the tone of his philosophy,

VOL. IX. p

314 DIALOGUE IV.

for a long while haunted my imagination in a most un*
accountable manner, and even formed a part of my
dreams. It often occurred to me, that this was not
the first time that I had seen him, and I endeavoured,
but in vain, to find some type or image of him in former
scenes of my life. I continually made inquiries re-
specting him amongst my acquaintance, but I could
never be sure that any of them knew him, or even
had seen him. So great were his peculiarities, that he
must have escaped observation altogether, for had he
entered the world at all he must have made some noise
in it. I expressed so much interest on this subject,
that at last it became a source of ridicule amongst my
acquaintance, who often asked me, if I had not yet
obtained news of my spirit-friend or ghost-seer.

After my return from Naples to Rome, I was almost
immediately recalled to England by a melancholy
event, the death of a very near and dear relation, and
I left my two friends, Ambrosio and Onuphrio, to
pursue their travels, which were intended to be of some
extent and duration.

In my youth, and through the prime of manhood, I
never entered London without feelings of pleasure and
hope. It was to me as the grand theatre of intellectual
activity, the field of every species of enterprise and
exertion, the metropolis of the world of business,
thought, and action. There I was sure to find the
friends and companions of my youth, to hear the
voice of encouragement and praise. There society of
the most refined kind offered daily its banquets to the
mind, with such variety that satiety had no place in
them, and new objects of interest and ambition were
constantly exciting attention either in politics, litera-
ture, or science.

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 315

I now entered this great city in a very different tone
of mind, one of settled melancholy, not merely produced
by the mournful event which recalled me to my country,
but owdng likewise to an entire change in the condition
of my physical, moral, and intellectual being. My health
w^as gone, my ambition was satisfied, I w^as no longer
excited by the desire of distinction ; what I regarded
most tenderly, was in the grave ; and, to take a meta-
phor, derived from the change produced by time in the
juice of the grape, my cup of life was no longer spark-
ling, sweet, and effervescent ;- — it had lost its sweetness,
without losing its power, — and it had become bitter.

After passing a few months in England, and enjoying
(as much as I could enjoy anything) the society of the
few friends who still remained alive, the desire of travel
again seized me. I had preserved, amidst the wreck of
time, one feeling strong and unbroken, the love of na-
tural scenery ; and this, in advanced life, formed a prin-
cipal motive for my plans of conduct and action. Of
all the climates of Europe, England seems to me most
fitted for the activity of the mind, and the least suited
to repose. The alterations of a climate so various and
rapid, continually awake new^ sensations; and the
changes in the sky from dryness to moisture, from the
blue ethereal to cloudiness and fogs, seem to keep the
nervous system in a constant state of disturbance. In
the mild climate of Nice, Naples, or Sicily, where even
in w^inter it is possible to enjoy the warmth of the sun-
shine in the open air beneath palm-trees, or amidst ever-
green groves of orange-trees, covered with odorous fruit
and sweet-scented leaves, mere existence is a pleasure,
— and even the pains of disease are sometimes for-
gotten amidst the balmy influence of nature, and a
series of agreeable and uninterrupted sensations invite

p 2

316 DIALOGUE IV.

to repose and oblivion. But, in the changeful and tu-
multuous atmosphere of England, to be tranquil is a
labour; and employment is necessary to ward oiF the
attacks of ennui. The English, as a nation, are pre-
eminently active ; and the natives of no other country
follow their objects with so much force, fire, and con-
stancy. And, as human powers are limited, there are
few examples of very distinguished men living in this
country to old age; they usually fail, droop and die
before they have attained the period naturally marked
for the end of human existence. The lives of our states-
men, w^arriors, poets, and even philosophers, offer abun-
dant proofs of the truth of this opinion; whatever burns
consumes, ashes remain. Before the period of youth is
passed, grey hairs usually cover those brows which are
adorned with the civic oak or the laurel ; and in the
luxurious and exciting life of the man of pleasure, their
tints are not even preserved by the myrtle-wreath or the
garland of roses from the premature winter of time.

In selecting the scenes for my new journey, I was
guided by my former experience. I know no country
more beautiful than that which may be called the Alpine
country of Austria, including the Alps of the southern
Tyrol, those of Illyria, the Noric, and the Julian Alps,
and the Alps of Styria and Saltzburg. The variety of
the scenery, the verdure of the meadows and trees, the
depths of the valleys, the altitude of the mountains^ the
clearness and grandeur of the rivers and lakes, give it, I
think, a decided superiority over Switzerland. And
the people are far more agreeable : various in their cos-
tumes and manners, Illyrians, Italians, or Germans,
they have all the same simplicity of character, and are
all distinguished by their love of their country, their
devotion to their sovereign, the warmth and purity of

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 317

their faith, their honesty, and (with very few excep-
tions) I may say, their great civility and courtesy to
strangers.

In the prime of life I had visited this region in a so-
ciety which afforded me the pleasures of intellectual
friendship, and the delights of refined affection : later, I
had left the burning summer of Italy, and the violence
of an unhealthy passion, and had found coolness, shade,
repose, and tranquillity there : in a still more advanced
period, I had sought for and found consolation, and
partly recovered my health after a dangerous illness, the
consequence of labour and mental agitation ; there I had
found the spirit of my early vision. I was desirous,
therefore, of again passing some time in these scenes, in
the hope of re-establishing a broken constitution ; and
though this hope was a feeble one, yet, at least, I ex-
pected to spend a few of the last days of life more tran-
quilly and more agreeably, than in the metropolis of my
own country. Nature never deceives us ; the rocks, the
mountains, the streams, always speak the same language :
a shower of snow may hide the verdant woods in spring,
a thunder-storm may render the blue limpid streams
foul and turbulent ; but these effects are rare and tran-
sient,— in a few hours, or at least days, all the sources
of beauty are renovated. And nature affords no conti-
nued trains of misfortunes and miseries, such as depend
upon the constitution of humanity, no hopes for ever
blighted in the bud, no beings full of life, beauty, and
promise taken from us in the prime of youth. Her
fruits are all balmy, bright, and sweet ; she affords none
of those blighted ones so common in the life of man,
and so like the fabled apples of the Dead Sea, fresh and
beautiful to the sight, but when tasted, full of bitterness
and ashes. I have already mentioned the strong effect

318 DIALOGUE IV.

produced on my mind by the stranger, whom I had met
so accidentally at Paestum; the hope of seeing him
again was another of my motives for wishing to leave
England, and (why I know not) I had a decided pre-
sentiment that I was more likely to meet him in the
Austrian States than in England, his own country.

For this journey I had one companion, an early
friend and medical adviser. He had lived much in the
world, had acquired a considerable fortune, had given
up his profession, was now retired, and sought, like
myself in this journey, repose of mind, and the pleasures
derived from natural scenery. He was a man of a very
pow^erful and acute understanding ; but had less of the
poetical temperament, than any person w^hom I had
ever know^n with similar vivacity of mind. He was a
severe thinker, with great variety of information, an ex-
cellent physiologist, and an accomplished naturalist. In
his reasonings, he adopted the precision of a geometer,
and was always upon his guard against the influence of
imagination. He had passed the meridian of life, and
his health was weak like my own, so that we were well
suited as travelling companions, moving always slowly
from place to place without hurry or fatigue. I shall
call this friend Eubathes. I will say nothing of the
progress of our journey through France and Germany ;
I shall dwell only upon that part of it which has still a
strong interest for me, and where events occurred, that
I shall never forget. We passed into the Alpine country
of Austria, by Lintz, on the Danube, and followed the
course of the Traun to Gmtinden, on the Traun See, or
lake of the Traun, where we halted for some days. If
I were disposed to indulge in minute picturesque de-
scriptions, I might occupy hours w^ith details of the
various characters of the enchanting scenery in this

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 319

neighbourhood. The vales have that pastoral beauty
and constant verdure, which is so familiar to us in Eng-
land, with similar enclosures and hedge-rows, and fruit
and forest trees. Above are noble hills planted with
beeches and oaks; mountains bound the view, here
covered with pines and larches, there raising their
marble crests, capped with eternal snows, above the
clouds. The lower part of the Traun See is always,
even in the most rainy season, perfectly pellucid : and
the Traun pours out of it, over ledges of rocks, a large
and magnificent river, beautifully clear, and of the
purest tint of the beryl. The fall of the Traun, about
ten miles below Gmiinden, was one of our favourite
haunts. It is a cataract, which, when the river is full,
may be almost compared to that of Schaffhausen for
magnitude, and possesses the same peculiar characters
of grandeur, in the precipitous rush of its awful and
overpowering waters, and of beauty in the tints of its
streams and foam, and in the forms of the rocks over
which it falls, and the cliifs and woods by which it is
overhung. In this spot an accident, which had nearly
been fatal to me, occasioned the renewal of my ac-
quaintance in an extraordinary manner with the mys-
terious unknown stranger. Eubathes, who was very
fond of fly-fishing, was amusing himself by catching
graylings for our dinner, in the stream above the fall. I
took one of the boats, which are used for descending the
canal or lock, artificially cut in the rock by the side of
the fall, on which salt and wood are usually transported
from Upper Austria to the Danube ; and I desired two
of the peasants to assist my servant in permitting the
boat to descend by a rope to the level of the river
below. My intention was to amuse myself by this rapid
species of locomotion along the descending sluice. For

320 DIALOGUE IV.

some moments the boat glided gently along the smooth
current, and I enjoyed the beauty of the moving scene
around me, and had my eye fixed upon the bright rain-
bow seen upon the spray of the cataract above my head ;
when I was suddenly roused by a shout of alarm from
my servant, and, looking round, I saw that the piece of
wood to which the rope had been attached had given
way, and the boat was floating down the river at the
mercy of the stream. I was not at first alarmed, for I
saw that my assistants were procuring long poles with
which it appeared easy to arrest the boat before it en-
tered the rapidly-descending water of the sluice, and I
called out to them to use their united force to reach the
longest pole across the water, that I might be able to
catch the end of it in my hand. And at this moment I
felt perfect security ; but a breeze of wind suddenly
came down the valley, and blew from the nearest bank,
the boat was turned by it out of the side current, and
thrown nearer to the middle of the river, and I soon
saw that I was likely to be precipitated over the cata-
ract. My servant and the boatmen rushed into the
water, but it was too deep to enable them to reach the
boat ; I was soon in the white water of the descending
stream and my danger was inevitable. I had presence
of mind enough to consider, whether my chance of
safety would be greater by throwing myself out of the
boat, or by remaining in it, and I preferred the latter
expedient. I looked from the rainbow upon the bright
sun above my head, as if taking leave for ever of that
glorious luminary; I raised one pious aspiration to the
divine source of light and life ; I was immediately
stunned by the thunder of the fall and my eyes were
closed in darkness. How long I remained insensible I
know not. My first recollections after this accident

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 321

were of a brio-ht lio;ht shining: above me, of warmth and
pressure in different parts of my body and of the noise
of the rushing cataract sounding in my ears. I seemed
awakened by the hght from a sound sleep, and endea-
voured to recall my scattered thoughts, but in vain, I
soon fell again into slumber. From this second sleep, I
was awakened by a voice which seemed not altogether
unknown to me, and looking upwards, I saw the bright
eye and noble countenance of the Unknown Stranger
whom I had met at Paestum. I faintly articulated " I am
in another world." " No," said the stranger, " you are
safe in this ; you are a little bruised by your fall, but
you will soon be well ; be tranquil and compose your-
self. Your friend is here, and you will want no other
assistance than he can easily give you," He then took
one of my hands, and I recognised the same strong
and warm pressure which I had felt from his parting
salute at Paestum. Eubathes, whom I now saw with an
expression of joy and of warmth unusual to him, gave a
hearty shake to the other hand: and they both said; "You
must repose a few hours longer." After a sound sleep
till the evening, I was able to take some refreshment,
and found little inconvenience from the accident, except
some bruises on the lower part of the body and a slight
swimming in the head. The next day, I was able to
return to Gmiinden, where I learned from the Unknown
the history of my escape, which seemed almost miracu-
lous to me. He said he was often in the habit of com-
bining pursuits of natural history with the amusements
derived from rural sports, and was fishing the day that
my accident happened, below the fall of the Traun, for
that peculiar species of the large sahno of the Danube
which fortunately for me is only to be caught by very
strong tackle. He saw, to his very great astonishm.ent

p 5

322 DIALOGUE IV.

and alarm, the boat and my body precipitated by the
fall : and was so fortunate as to entangle his hooks in a
part of my dress when I had been scarcely more than a
minute under water, and by the assistance of his ser-
vant, who was armed with the gaff or curved hook for
landing large fish, I was safely conveyed to the shore, un-
dressed, put into a warm bed, and by the modes of re-
storing suspended animation, which were familiar to
him, I soon recovered my sensibility and consciousness.
I was desirous of reasoning with him and Eubathes upon
the state of annihilation of power and transient death
which I had suffered when in the water, but they both
requested me to defer those inquiries which required too
profound an exertion of thought, till the effects of the
shock on my weak constitution were over, and my
strength was somewhat re-established; and, I was the
more contented to comply with their request, as the
Unknown said, it was his intention to be our companion
for at least some days longer, and that his objects of
pursuit lay in the very country in which we w^ere mak-
ing our summer tour. It was some weeks before I was
sufficiently strong to proceed on our journey, for my
frame was little fitted to bear such a trial as that which
it had experienced ; and considering the weak state of
my body when I was immerged in the water, I could
hardly avoid regarding my recovery as providential, and
the presence and assistance of the Stranger as in some
way connected with the future destiny and utility of
my life. In the middle of August we pursued our
plans of travel. We first visited those romantic lakes —
Hallsstadt, Aussee, and Toplitz See, which collect the
melted snows of the higher mountains of Styria, to sup-
ply the unfailing sources of the Traun. We visited that
elevated region of the Tyrol, which forms the crest of

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 323

the Pusterthal, and where the same chains of glaciers
send down streams to the Drave and the Adige, to the
Black Sea, and to the Adriatic. We remained for many
days in those two magnificent valleys which afford the
sources of the Save, where that glorious and abundant
river rises, as it were, in the very bosom of beauty, leap-
ing from its subterraneous reservoirs in the snowy
mountains of Terglou and Manhardt, in thundering
cataracts amongst cliffs and woods, into the pure and
deep cerulean lakes of Wochain and Wurzen, and pur-
suing its course amidst pastoral meadows, so ornamented
with plants and trees, as to look the garden of nature.
The subsoil or strata of this part of Illyria are entirely
calcareous, and full of subterranean caverns, so that in
every declivity large funnel shaped cavities, like the
craters of volcanos, may be seen, in which the waters
that fall from the atmosphere are lost ; and almost every
lake or river has a subterraneous source, and often a sub-
terraneous exit. The Laibach river rises twice from
the limestone rock, and is twice again swallowed up by
the earth before it makes its final appearance, and is
lost in the Save. The Zirknitz See or lake is a mass of
water entirely filled and emptied by subterraneous
sources; and its natural history, though singular, has
in it nothing of either prodigy, mystery, or wonder.
The grotto of the Maddalena at Adelsberg occupied
more of our attention than the Zirknitz See. I shall
give the conversation that took place in that extraordi-
nary cavern, entire, as well as I can remember it, in the
words used by my companions.

EuB. — We must be many hundred feet below the
surface : 3^et the temperature of this cavern is fresh and
agreeable.

The Unknown. — This cavern has the mean tempe-

324 DIALOGUE IV.

rature of the atmosphere, which is the case with all sub-
terraneous cavities removed from the influence of the
solar light and heat : and, in so hot a day in August as
this, I know no more agreeable or salutary manner of
taking a cold bath than in descending to a part of the
atmosphere out of the influence of those causes which
occasion its elevated temperature.

EuB. — Have you, Sir, been in this country before ?
; The Unknown. — This is the third summer that I
have made it the scene of an annual visit. Independ-
ently of the natural beauties found in lUyria, and the
various sources of amusement which a traveller, fond of
natural history, may find in this region, it has had a pe-
culiar object of interest for me in the extraordinary
animals which are found in the bottom of its subterra-
neous cavities ; I allude to the Proteus anguinus, — a far
greater wonder of nature than any of those which the
Baron Valvasa detailed to the Royal Society, a century
and half ago, as belonging to Carniola, with far too
romantic an air for a philosopher.

Phil. — I have seen these animals, in passing through
this country before ; but I should be very glad to be
better acquainted with their natural history.

The Unknown. — We shall soon be in that part of
the grotto v/here they are found ; and I shall willingly
communicate the little that I have been able to learn
respecting their natural characters and habits.

EuB. — The grotto now becomes really magnificent;
I have seen no subterraneous cavity with so many traits
of beauty and of grandeur. The irregularity of its sur-
face, the magnitude of the masses broken in pieces,
which compose its sides, and which seem torn from the
bosom of the mountain by some great convulsion of na-
ture, their dark colours and deep shades, form a singular

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 325

contrast with the beauty, uniformity, I may say, order
and grace of the white stalactical concretions which
hang from the canopy above, and where the Hght of our
torches reflected from the brilliant or transparent calca-
reous gems, create a scene which almost looks like one
produced by enchantment.

Phil. — If the awful chasms of dark masses of rock
surrounding us, appear like the work of demons, who
might be imagined to have risen from the centre of the
earth, the beautiful works of nature above our heads may
be compared to a scenic representation of a temple or
banquet hall for fairies or genii, such as those fabled in
the Arabian romances.

The Unknown. — A poet might certainly place here
the palace of the king of the Gnomes, and might find
marks of his creative power in the small lake close by,
on which the flame of the torch is now falling ; for, there
it is that I expect to find the extraordinary animals
which have been so long the objects of my attention.

EuB. — I see three or four creatures, like slender fish,
moving on the mud below the water.

The Unknown. — I see them ; they are the Protei ;
now I have them in my fishing net, and now they are
safe in the pitcher of water. At first view, you might
suppose this animal to be a lizard, but it has the motions
of a fish. Its head, and the lower part of its body and
its tail, bear a strong resemblance to those of the eel ;
but it has no fins ; and its curious branchial organs are
not like the gills of fishes ; they form a singular vascular
structure, as you see, almost like a crest, round the
throat, which may be removed without occasioning the
death of the animal, who is likewise furnished with lungs.
With this double apparatus for supplying air to the
blood, it can live either below or above the surface of the

326 DIALOGUE IV.

water. Its fore feet resemble hands, but they have only
three claws or fingers, and are too feeble to be of use in
grasping or supporting the w^eight of the animal ; the
hinder feet have only two claws or toes, and in the
larger specimens are found so imperfect as to be almost
obliterated. It has small points in place of eyes, as if to
preserve the analogy of nature. It is of a fleshy white-
ness and transparency in its natural state, but when ex-
posed to light, its skin gradually becomes darker, and at
last gains an olive tint. Its nasal organs appear large ;
and it is abundantly furnished with teeth, from which it
may be concluded, that it is an animal of prey, yet, in
its confined state, it has never been known to eat, and
it has been kept alive for many years, by occasionally
changing the water in which it was placed.

EuB. — Is this the only place in Carniola where these
animals are found ?

The Unknown. — They were first discovered here by
the late Baron Zois ; but they have since been found,
though rarely, at Sittich, about thirty miles distant,
thrown up by water from a subterraneous cavity ; and I
have lately heard it reported that some individuals of
the same species have been recognized in the calcareous
strata in Sicily.

EuB. — This lake in which we have seen these ani-
mals is a very small one ; do you suppose they are bred
here?

The Unknown. — Certainly not ; in dry seasons they
are seldom found here, but after great rains they are
often abundant. I think it cannot be doubted, that
their natural residence is in an extensive deep subterra-
nean lake, from which in great floods they sometimes
are forced through the crevices of the rocks into this
place where they are found ; and, it does not appear to

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 327

me impossible, when the peculiar nature of the country
in which we are is considered, that the same great cavity
may furnish the individuals which have been found at
Adelsburg and at Sittich.

EuB. — This is a very extraordinary view of the sub-
ject. Is it not possible that it may be the larva of some
large unknown animal inhabiting these limestone cavi-
ties ? Its feet arc not in harmony with the rest of its
organization, and were they removed, it would have all
the characters of a fish.

The Unknown. — I cannot suppose that they are
larvae- There is I believe in nature no instance of a
transition by this species of metamorphosis, from a more
perfect to a less perfect animal. The tadpole has a
resemblance to a fish before it becomes a frog; the
caterpillar and the maggot gain not only more perfect
powers of motion on the earth in their new state, but
acquire organs by which they inhabit a new element.
This animal, I dare say, is much larger than we now
see it, when mature in its native place ; but its com-
parative anatomy is exceedingly hostile to the idea that
it is an animal in a state of transition. It has been
found of various sizes, from that of the thickness of a
quill to that of the thumb, but its form of organs has
been always the same. It is surely a perfect animal of
a peculiar species. And it adds one instance more to
the number already known of the wonderful manner in
which life is produced and perpetuated in every part of
our globe, even in places which seem the least suited to
organized existences. — And the same infinite power and
wisdom which has fitted the camel and the ostrich for
the deserts of Africa, the swallow that secretes its own
nest for the caves of Java, the whale for the Polar seas,
and the morse and white bear for the Arctic ice, has

328 DIALOGUE IV.

given the Proteus to the deep and dark subterraneous
lakes of Illyria, — an animal to whom the presence of
light is not essential, and who can live indifferently in
air and in water, on the surface of the rock, or in the
depths of the mud.

Phil. — It is now ten years since I first visited this
spot. I w^as exceedingly anxious to see the Proteus,
and came here with the guide in the evening of the
day I arrived at Adelsberg ; but though we examined
the bottom of the cave with the greatest care, we could
find no specimens. We returned the next morning
and were more fortunate, for we discovered five close to
the bank on the mud covering the bottom of the lake ;
the mud was smooth and perfectly undisturbed, and the
water quite clear. This fact of their appearance during
the night, seemed to me so extraordinary, that I could
hardly avoid the fancy that they w^ere new creations.
I saw no cavities through which they could have entered,
and the undisturbed state of the lake seemed to give
weight to my notion. My reveries became discursive,
I was carried in imagination back to the primitive state
of the globe, when the great animals of the sauri kind
were created under the pressure of a heavy atmosphere ;
and my notion on this subject was not destroyed, when
I heard from a celebrated anatomist, to whom I sent the
specimens I had collected, that the organization of the
spine of the Proteus was analogous to that of one of
the sauri, the remains of which are found in the older
secondary strata. It was said at this time that no organs
of reproduction had been discovered in any of the spe-
cimens examined by physiologists, and this lent a weight
to my opinion of the possibility of their being actually
new creations, which I suppose you will condemn as
wholly visionary and unphilosophical.

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 329

Eu:B. — From the tone in which you make your state-
ments, I think you yourself consider them as unworthy
of discussion. On such ground, eels might be consi-
dered new creations, for their mature ovaria have not
yet been discovered, and they come from the sea into
rivers under circumstances when it is difficult to trace
their course.

The Unknown. — The problem of the reproduction
of the Proteus, like that of the common eel, is not yet
solved ; but ovaria have been discovered in animals of
both species, and in this instance, as in all others be-
longing to the existing order of things, Harvey's maxim
of " omne vivum ab ovo " will apply.

EuB. — You just now said, that this animal has been
long an object of attention to you ; have you studied it
as a comparative anatomist, in search of the solution of
the problem of its reproduction?

The Unknown. — No ; this inquiry has been pursued
by much abler investigators, by Schreiber and Config-
liachi; my researches were made upon its respiration
and the changes occasioned in water by its branchiae.

EuB. — I hope they have been satisfactory.

The Unknown. — They proved to me at least, that
not merely the oxygen dissolved in water, but likewise
a part of the azote was absorbed in the respiration of
this animal.

EuB. — So that your researches confirm those of the
French savans and Alexander von Humboldt, that in
the respiration of animals which separate air from water
both principles of the atmosphere are absorbed.

Phil. — I have heard so many and such various
opinions on the nature of the function of respiration,
during my education, and since, that I should like to
know what is the modern doctrine on this subject : I

330 DIALOGUE TV.

can hardly refer to better authority than yourself, and
I have an additional reason for wishing for some accu-
rate knowledge on this matter, having, as you well
know, been the subject of an experiment in relation
to it, which, but for your kind and active assistance,
must have terminated fatally.

The Unknown. — I shall gladly state what I know^,
which is very little. In physics and in chemistry, the
science of dead matter, we possess many facts and a few
principles or laws, but whenever the functions of life are
considered, though the facts are numerous, yet there is,
as yet, scarcely any approach to general laws ; and we
must usually end where we begin, by confessing our
entire ignorance.

EuB. — I will not allow this ignorance to be entire ;
something, undoubtedly, has been gained by the know-
ledge of the circulation of the blood and its aeration in
the lungs, — these, if not law^s, are at least fundamental
principles.

The Unknown. — I speak only of the functions in
their connexion wdth life. We are still ignorant of the
source of animal heat, though half a century ago the
chemists thought they had proved it was owing to a
sort of combustion of the carbon of the blood.

Phil. — As we return to our inn, I hope you will both
be so good as to give me your views of the nature of
this function, so important to all living beings ; tell me
what you know, or what you believe, or what others
imagine they know.

The Unknown. — The powers of the organic system
depend upon a continued state of change ; the waste of
the body produced in muscular action, perspiration, and
various secretions, is made up for by the constant supply
of nutritive matter to the blood by the absorbents; and by

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 331

the action of the heart the blood is preserved in per-
petual motion through every part of the body. In the
lungs, or bronchia, the venous blood is exposed to the
influence of air, and undergoes a remarkable change,
being converted into arterial blood. The obvious
chemical alteration of the air is sufficiently simple in
this process ; a certain quantity of carbon only is added
to it, and it receives an addition of heat or vapour ; the
volumes of elastic fluid inspired and expired (making
allowance for change of temperature) are the same, and
if ponderable agents only were to be regarded, it
would appear as if the only use of respiration were to
free the blood from a certain quantity of carbonaceous
matter. But it is probable that this is only a secondary
object, and that the change produced by respiration upon
the blood is of a much more important kind, Oxygen,
in its elastic state, has properties which are very charac-
teristic ; it gives out light by compression, which is not
certainly known to be the case with any other elastic
fluid except those with which oxygen has entered with-
out undergoing combustion ; and from the fire it pro-
duces in certain processes, and from the manner in
which it is separated by positive electricity in the gaseous
state from its combinations, it is not easy to avoid the
supposition, that it contains besides its ponderable ele-
ments, some very subtile matter which is capable of
assuming the form of heat and light. My idea is, that
the common air inspired enters into the venous blood
entire, in a state of dissolution, carrying with it its
subtile or ethereal part, which in ordinary cases of
chemical change is given off"; that it expels from the
blood carbonic acid gas and azote ; and that, in the
course of the circulation, its ethereal part and its pon-
derable part undergo changes which belong to laws

332 DIALOGUE IV.

that cannot be consided as chemical, — the ethereal part
probably producing animal heat and other effects, and
the ponderable part contributing to form carbonic acid
and other products. The arterial blood is necessary to
all the functions of life, and it is no less connected with
the irritability of the muscles and the sensibility of the
nerves than with the performance of all the secretions.

EuB. — No one can be more convinced than I am of
the very limited extent of our knowledge in chemical
physiology ; and, when I say, that having been a disci-
ple and friend of Dr. Black, I am still disposed to pre-
fer his ancient view to your new one, I wish merely to
induce you to pause and to hear my reasons ; they may
appear insufficient to you, but I am anxious to explain
them. First, then, in all known chemical changes in
which oxygen gas is absorbed and carbonic acid gas
formed, heat is produced ; I could mention a thou-
sand instances, from the combustion of wood or spirits of
wine, to the fermentation of fruit, or the putrefaction of
animal matter. This general fact, which may be almost
called a law, is in favour of the view of Dr. Black.
Another circumstance in favour of it is, that those ani-
mals which possess the highest temperature consume
the greatest quantity of air ; and, under different circum-
stances of action and repose, the heat is in great measure
proportional to the quantity of oxygen consumed.
Then, those animals which absorb the smallest quantity
of air are cold blooded. Another argument in favour of
Dr. Black's opinion is, the change of colour of blood
from black to red ; which seems to show that it loses
carbon.

The Unknown. — With the highest respect for the
memory of Dr. Black, and for the opinion of his disci-
ple, I shall answer the arguments I have just heard. I

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 333

will not allow any facts or laws from the action of
dead matter to apply to living structures; the blood is a
living fluid, and of this we are sure, that it does not
burn in respiration. The terms warmth and cold, as
applied to the blood of animals, are improper in
the sense in which they have been just used ; all ani-
mals are in fact warm-blooded, and the degrees of
their temperature are fitted to the circumstances under
which they live, and those animals the life of which is
most active, possess most heat, which may be the result
of general actions, and not a particular effect of respira-
tion. Besides, a distinguished physiologist has rendered
it probable, that the animal heat depends more upon the
functions of the nerves than upon any result of respira-
tion. The argument, derived from change of colour is
perfectly delusive ; it would not follow, if carbon were
liberated from the blood, that it must necessarily become
brighter ; sulphur combining with charcoal becomes a
clear fluid, and a black oxide of copper becomes red in
uniting with a substance which abounds in carbon. No
change in sensible qualities can ever indicate with pre-
cision the nature of chemical change.

I shall resume my view, which I cannot be said to
have fully developed. When I stated that carbonic acid
was formed in the venous blood in the processes of life,
I meant merely to say that this blood, in consequence of
certain changes, became capable of giving off carbon
and oxygen in union with each other, for the moment
inorganic matter enters into the composition of living
organs it obeys new laws. The action of the gastric
juice is chemical and it will only dissolve dead matters,
and it dissolves them when they are in tubes of metal
as well as in the stomach, but it has no action upon
living matter. Respiration is no more a chemical pro-

334 DIALOGUE IV.

cess than the absorption of chyle ; and the changes
that take place in the lungs though they appear so
simple may be very complicated; it is as little philo-
sophical to consider them as a mere combustion of
carbon, as to consider the formation of muscle from the
arterial blood as crystallization. There can be no doubt
that all the powers and agencies of matter are employed
in the purposes of organization, but the phenomena of
organization can no more be referred to chemistry than
those of chemistry to mechanics. As oxygen stands in
that electrical relation to the other elements of animal
matter which has been called electro-positive, it may be
supposed, that some electrical function is exercised by
oxygen in the blood ; but this is a mere hypothesis. An
attempt has been made founded on experiments on the
decomposition of bodies by electricity to explain secre-
tion by weak electrical powers, and to suppose the
glands electrical organs, and even to imagine the action
of the nerves dependent upon electricity ; these, like
all other notions of the same kind, appear to me very
little refined. If electrical effects be the exhibition of
certain powers belonging to matter, which is a fair sup-
position, then no change can take place without their
being more or less concerned; but, to imagine the
presence of electricity to solve phenomena, the cause of
which is unknown, is merely to substitute one undefined
word for another. In some animals electrical organs are
found, but, then, they furnish the artillery of the animal
and means of seizing its prey and of its defence. And
speculations of this kind must be ranked with those
belonging to some of the more superficial followers of
the Newtonian philosophy, who explained the properties
of animated nature by mechanical powers, and muscular
action by the expansion and contraction of elastic

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 335

bladders ; man, in this state of vague philosophical
inquiry, was supposed a species of hydraulic machine.
And when the pneumatic chemistry was invented,
organic structures were soon imagined to be laboratories
in which combinations and decompositions produced all
the effects of living actions ; then muscular contractions
were supposed to depend upon explosions like those of
the detonating compounds, and the formation of blood
from chyle was considered as a pure chemical solution.
And, now that the progress of science has opened new
and extraordinary views in electricity, these views are
not unnaturally applied by speculative reasoners to solve
some of the mysterious and recondite phenomena of
organized beings. But the analogy is too remote and
incorrect ; the sources of life cannot be grasped by such
machinery ; to look for them in the powers of electro-
chemistry is seeking the living among the dead ; — that
which touches, will not be felt, that which sees will not
be visible, that which commands sensations will not be
their subject.

Phil. — I conclude from what you last said, that though
you are inclined to believe that some unknown subtile
matter is added to the organized system by respiration,
yet you would not have us believe, that this is electricity,
or that there is any reason to suppose that electricity
has a peculiar and special share in producing the
functions of life.

The Unknown. — I wish to guard you against the
adoption of any hypothesis on this recondite and
abstruse subject. But however difficult it may be to
define the exact nature of respiration, yet the effect of
it and its connexions with the functions of the body are
sufficiently striking. By the action of air on the blood
it is fitted for the purposes of life, and from the moment

336 DIALOGUE IV.

that animation is marked by sensation or volition this
function is performed, the punctum saliens in the ovum
seems to receive as it were the breath of life in the in-
fluence of air. In the economy of the reproduction of
the species of animals, one of the most important cir-
cumstances is the aeration of the ovum, and when this
is not performed from the blood of the mother as in the
mammalia by the placenta, there is a system for aerating
as in the oviparous reptiles or fishes, which enables the
air freely to pass through the receptacles in which the
eggs are deposited, or the egg itself is aerated out of the
body through its coats or shell, and when air is excluded,
incubation or artificial heat has no effect. Fishes, which
deposit their eggs in water that contains only a limited
portion of air, make combinations which would seem
almost the result of scientific knowledge or reason,
though depending upon a more unerring principle, their
instinct for preserving their offspring. Those fishes that
spawn in spring or the beginning of summer and w^hich
inhabit deep and still waters, as the carp, bream, pike,
tench, &c. deposit their eggs upon aquatic vegetables,
which by the influence of the solar light constantly pre-
serve the water in a state of aeration. The trout,
salmon, hucho and others of the salmo genus, which
spawn in the beginning or end of winter and which in-
habit rivers fed by cold and rapid streams which descend
from the mountains, deposit their eggs in shallows on
heaps of gravel, as near as possible to the source of the
stream where the water is fully combined with air ; and,
to accomplish this purpose they travel for hundreds of
miles against the current and leap over cataracts and
dams, — thus the salmo salar ascends by the Rhone and
the Aar to the glaciers of Switzerland, the hucho by
the Danube, the Isar and the Save passing through the

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 337

lakes of the Tyrol and Stj^ia to the highest torrents of
the Noric and Julian Alps.

Phil. — My own experience proves in the strongest
manner the immediate connexion of sensibility with
respiration ; all that I can remember in my accident was
a certain violent and painful sensation of oppression in
the chest which must have been immediately succeeded
by loss of sense.

EuB. — I have no doubt that all your suffering was
over at the moment you describe ; as far as sensibility
is concerned you were inanimate when your friend
raised you from the bottom. This distinct connexion
of sensibility with the absorption of air by the blood, is
I think in favour of the idea advanced by our friend,
that some subtile and etherial matter is supplied to the
system in the elastic air which may be the cause of
vitality.

The Unknown. — Softly, if you please ; I must not
allow you to mistake my view. I think it probable that
some subtile matter is derived from the atmosphere con-
nected with the functions of life ; but nothing can be
more remote from my opinion than to suppose it the
cause of vitality.

Phil. — This might have been fully inferred from the
whole tenor of your conversation, and particularly from
that expression " that which commands sensation w411
not be their subject ;" I think I shall not mistake your
views when I say, that you do not consider vitality
dependent upon any material cause or principle.

The Unknown. — You do not : we are entirely
ignorant on this subject ; and, I confess in the utmost
humility, my ignorance. I know there have been dis-
tinguished physiologists who have imagined that by
organization, powers not naturally possessed by matter

VOL. IX. Q

338 DIALOGUE IV.

were developed, and that sensibility was a property
belonging to some unknown combination of unknown
ethereal elements. But such notions appear to me un-
philosophical, and the mere substitution of unknow^n
words for unknown things. I can never believe that
any division, or refinement, or subtilization, or juxtapo-
sition, or arrangement of the particles of matter can
give to them sensibility ; or, that intelligence can result
from combinations of insensate and brute atoms. I can
as easily imagine that the planets are moving by their
will or design round the sun, or that a cannon-ball is
reasoning in making its parabolic curve. The mate-
rialists have quoted a passage of Locke in favour of
their doctrine, who seemed to doubt, " w-hether it might
not have pleased God to bestow a power of thinking on
matter." But with the highest veneration for this great
reasoner, the founder of modern philosophical logic, I
think there is little of his usual strength of mind in this
doubt. It appears to me that he might as well have
asked, whether it might not have pleased God to make
a house its own tenant.

EuB. — lam not a professed materialist; but I think
you treat rather too lightly the modest doubts of Locke
on this subject. And without considering me as a par-
tizan, you will, I hope, allow me to state some of the
reasons which I have heard good physiologists advance
in favour of that opinion to which you are so hostile.
In the first accretion of the parts of animated beings,
they appear almost like the crystallized matter, with the
simplest kind of life, scarcely sensitive. The gradual
operations by which they acquire new organs and new
powers, corresponding to these organs, till they arrive at
fall maturity, forcibly strike the mind with the idea
that the powers of life reside in the arrangement by

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 339

which the organs are produced. Then, as there is a
gradual increase of power corresponding to the increase
of perfection of the organization, so there is a gradual
diminution of it connected with the decay of the body.
As the imbecility of infancy corresponds to the weak-
ness of organization, so the energy of youth, and the
power of manhood, are marked by its strength ; and,
the feebleness and dotage of old age are in the direct
ratio of the decline of the perfection of the organization ;
and, the mental powers in extreme old age seem de-
stroyed at the same time with the corporeal ones, till the
ultimate dissolution of the frame, when the elements are
again restored to that dead nature from which they were
originally derived. Then, there was a period, when the
greatest philosopher, statesman, or hero, that ever ex-
isted, was a mere living atom, an organized form, with
the sole power of perception ; and the combinations that
a Newton formed before birth, or immediately after,
cannot be imagined to have possessed the slightest in-
tellectual character. If a peculiar principle be sup-
posed necessary to intelligence, it must exist through-
out animated nature. The elephant approaches nearer
to man in intellectual power than the oyster does to the
elephant ; and a link of sensitive nature may be traced
from the polypus to the philosopher. Now, in the po-
lypus the sentient principle is divisible, and from one
polypus or one earthworm may be formed two or three,
all of which become perfect animals, and have percep-
tion and volition ; therefore, at least, the sentient prin-
ciple has this property in common with matter, that it
is divisible. Then, to these difficulties, add the de-
pendence of all the higher faculties of the mind upon
the state of the brain ; remember, that not only all the
intellectual powers, but even sensibility, is destroved by

q2

340 DIALOGUE IV.

the pressure of a little blood upon the cerebellum, and
the difficulties increase. Call to mind, likewise, the
suspension of animation in cases similar to that of our
friend, when there are no signs of life, and w^hen ani-
mation returns only wdth the return of organic action.
Surely, in all these instances, every thing which you
consider as belonging to spirit appears in intimate de-
pendence upon the arrangements and properties of
matter.

The Unknown. — The arguments you have used, are
those which are generally employed by physiologists.
They have weight in appearance, but not in reality ;
they prove that a certain perfection of the machinery of
the body is essential to the exercise of the powers of the
mind, —but, they do not prove that the machine is the
mind. Without the eye there can be no sensations of
vision, and without the brain there could be no recol-
lected visible ideas ; but neither the optic nerve nor the
brain can be considered as the percipient principle, they
are but the instruments of a power which has nothing
in common with them. What may be said of the ner-
vous system may be applied to a diiferent part of the
frame ; stop the motion of the heart, and sensibility and
life cease, yet the living principle is not in the heart, nor
in the arterial blood, which it sends to every part of the
system. A savage, who saw the operation of a number
of power-looms weaving stockings cease at once on the
stopping of the motion of a w^heel, might well imagine that
the motive force was in the w^heel; he could not divine that
it more immediately depended upon the steam, and ulti-
mately upon a fire below a concealed boiler. The phi-
losopher sees the fire which is the cause of the motion
of this complicated machinery, so unintelligible to the
savage ; but both are equally ignorant of the divine fire

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 341

which is the cause of the mechanism of organized struc-
tures. Profoundly ignorant on this subject, all that we
can do is to give a history of our own minds. The ex-
ternal world, or matter, is to us in fact nothing but a
heap or cluster of sensations, and in looking back to the
memory of our own being, we find one principle which
may be called the monad, or self, constantly present, in-
timately associated with a particular class of sensations,
which we call our own body or organs. These organs
are connected with other sensations, and move, as it
were, with them in circles of existence, quitting, for a
time, some trains of sensation to return to others, but
the monad is always present ; we can fix no beginning
to its operations, we can place no limit to them. We
sometimes, in sleep, lose the beginning and end of a
dream, and recollect the middle of it, and one dream has
no connexion with another, and yet we are conscious of
an infinite variety of dreams, and there is a strong ana-
logy for believing in an infinity of past existences, which
must have had connexion; and human life may be re-
garded as a type of infinite and immortal life, and its
succession of sleep and dreams as a type of the changes
of death and birth, to which, from its nature, it is liable.
That the ideas belonging to the mind were originally
gained from those classes of sensations called organs, it
is impossible to deny, as it is impossible to deny that
mathematical truths depend upon the signs which ex-
press them; but these signs are not themselves the
truths, nor are the organs the mind. The whole history
of intellect is a history of change, according to a certain
law ; and we retain the memory only of those changes
which may be useful to us ; — the child forgets what hap-
pened to it in the womb ; the recollections of the infant,
likewise, before two years, are soon lost ; yet, many of

342 DIALOGUE IV.

the habits acquired in that age are retained through life.
The sentient principle gains thoughts by material instru-
ments ; and, its sensations change as those instruments
change ; and, in old age, the mind, as it were, falls
asleep to awake to a new existence. With its present
organization, the intellect of man is naturally limited
and imperfect ; but, this depends upon its material ma-
chinery ; and in a higher organized form, it may be
imagined to possess infinitely higher powers. Were
man to be immortal in his present corporeal frame, this
immortality would only belong to the machinery : and
with respect to acquisitions of mind, he would virtually
die every two or three hundred years, — that is to say,
a certain quantity of ideas only could be remembered,
and the supposed immortal being would be, with respect
to what had happened a thousand years ago, as the adult
now is with respect to what happened in the first year of
his life. To attempt to reason upon the manner in
which the organs are connected with sensation would be
useless ; the nerves and brain have some immediate rela-
tion to these vital functions, but how they act, it is im-
possible to say. From the rapidity and infinite variety
of the phenomena of perception, it seems extremely
probable that there must be in the brain and nerves mat-
ter of a nature far more subtile and refined than any
thing discovered in them by observation and experiment,
and that the immediate connexion between the sentient
principle and the body may be established by kinds of
ethereal matter, which can never be evident to the
senses, and which may bear the same relations to heat,
light, and electricity, that these refined forms or modes
of existence of matter bear to the gasses. Motion is
most easily produced by the lighter species of matter ;
and yet imponderable agents, such as electricity, possess

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 343

force sufficient to overturn the weightiest structures.
Nothing can be farther from my meaning than to at-
tempt any definition on this subject, nor would I ever
embrace or give authority to that idea of Newton, who
supposes that the immediate cause of sensation may be
in undulations of an ethereal medium. It does not,
however, appear improbable to me, that some of the
more refined machinery of thought may adhere, even in
another state, to the sentient principle ; for, though the
organs of gross sensation, the nerves and brain, are des-
troyed by death, yet something of the more ethereal
nature, which I have supposed, may be less destructible.
And, I sometimes imagine, that many of those powers,
which have been called instinctive, belong to the more
refined clothing of the spirit ; conscience, indeed, seems
to have some undefined source, and may bear relation to
a former state of being.

EuB. — All your notions are merely ingenious specu-
lations. Revelation gives no authority to your ideas of
spiritual nature ; the Christian immortality is founded
upon the resurrection of the body.

The Unknown. — This I will not allow. Even in the
Mosaic history of the creation of man, his frame is made
in the image of God, that is, capable of intelligence ;
and the Creator breathes into it the breath of life, his
own essence. Then our Saviour has said, " of the God
of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob." " He is not the
God of the dead, but of the living." St. Paul has de-
scribed the clothing of the spirit in a new and glorious
body, taking the analogy from the living germ in the
seed of the plant, which is not quickened till after appa-
rent death ; and the catastrophe of our planet, which, it
is revealed, is to be destroyed and purified by fire, be-
fore it is fitted for the habitation of the blest, is in

344 DIALOGUE IV.

perfect harmony with the view I have ventured to
suggest.

EuB. — I cannot make your notions coincide with
what I have been accustomed to consider the meaning
of holy writ You allow every thing belonging to the
material life to be dependent upon the organization of
the body, and yet you imagine the spirit after death
clothed with a new body ; and, in the system of rewards
and punishments, this body is rendered happy or miser-
able for actions committed by another and extinct frame.
A particular organization may impel to improper and
immoral gratification ; it does not appear to me, accord-
ing to the principles of eternal justice, that the body of
the resurrection should be punished for crimes depen-
dent upon a conformation now dissolved and destroyed.

TnE Unknown. — Nothing is more absurd, I may say
more impious, than for man, with a ken surrounded by
the dense mists of sense, to reason respecting the de-
crees of eternal justice. You adopt here the same limited
view that you embraced in reasoning against the indes-
tructibility of the sentient principle in man, from the
apparent division of the living principle in the polypus,
not recollecting that to prove a quality can be increased
or exalted, does not prove that it can be annihilated.
If there be, which I think cannot be doubted, a con-
sciousness of good and evil constantly belonging to the
sentient principle in man, then rewards and punish-
ments naturally belong to acts of this consciousness, to
obedience or disobedience ; and, the indestructibility of
the sentient being is necessary to the decrees of eternal
justice. On your view, even in this life, just punish-
ments for crimes would be almost impossible ; for the
materials of which human beings are composed change
rapidly, and in a few years probably not an atom of the

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 345

primitive structure remains ; yet even the materialist is
obliged, in old age, to do penance for the sins of his
youth, and does not complain of the injustice of his de-
crepit body, entirely changed and made stiff by time,
suffering for the intemperance of his youthful flexible
frame. On my idea, conscience is the frame of the
mind, fitted for its probation in mortality. And this is
in exact accordance with the foundations of our religion,
the divine origin of which is marked no less by its his-
tory than its harmony with the principles of our nature.
Obedience to its precepts, not only prepares for a better
state of existence in another world, but is likewise cal-
culated to make us happy here. We are constantly
taught to renounce sensual pleasure and selfish gratifi-
cations, to forget our body and sensible organs, to asso-
ciate our pleasures with mind, to fix our affections upon
the great ideal generalization of intelligence in the one
Supreme Being. And, that we are capable of forming
to ourselves an imperfect idea even of the infinite mind,
is, I think, a strong presumption of our own immor-
tality, and of the distinct relation which our finite know-
ledge bears to eternal wisdom.

Phil. — I am pleased with your views ; they coincide
with those I had formed at the time my imagination
was employed upon the vision of the Colosseum, which
I repeated to you, and are not in opposition with the
opinions that the cool judgment and sound and humble
faith of Ambrosio have led me since to embrace. The
doctrine of the materialists was always, even in my
youth, a cold, heavy, dull and insupportable doctrine to
me, and necessarily tending to atheism. When I had
heard with disgust, in the dissecting rooms, the plan of
the physiologist, of the gradual accretion of matter and
its becoming endowed with irritability, ripening into

Q 5

346 DIALOGUE IV.

sensibility and acquiring such organs as were necessary,
by its own inherent forces, and at last rising into intel-
lectual existence, a walk into the green fields or woods
by the banks of rivers brought back my feelings from
nature to God ; I saw in all the powers of matter the
instruments of the deity ; the sunbeams, the breath of
the zephyr awakening animation in forms prepared by
divine intelligence to receive it; the insensate seed, the
slumbering egg, which were to be vivified, appeared
like the new born animal, works of a divine mind ; I
saw love as the creative principle in the material world,
and this love only as a divine attribute. Then, my own
mind I felt connected with new sensations and inde-
finite hopes, a thirst for immortality ; the great names
of other ages and of distant nations appeared to me to
be still living around me ; and, even in the funeral
monuments of the heroic and the great, I saw, as it
w^ere, the decree of the indestructibility of mind. These
feelings, though generally considered as poetical, yet, I
think, offer a sound philosophical argument in favour of
the immortality of the soul. In all the habits and in-
stincts of young animals, their feelings or movements
may be traced in intimate relation to their improved
perfect state ; their sports have always affinities to their
modes of hunting or catching their food, and young
birds even in the nest show marks of fondness, which
when their frames are developed become signs of actions
necessary to the reproduction and preservation of the
species. The desire of glor}^, of honour, of immortal
fame and of constant knowledge, so usual in young per-
sons of well-constituted minds, cannot, I think, be other
than symptoms of the infinite and progressive nature of
intellect — hopes, which as they cannot be gratified here,

THE PROTEUS, OR IMMORTALITY. 347

belong to a frame of mind suited to a nobler state of
existence.

The Unknown. — Religion, whether natural or re-
vealed, has always the same beneficial influence on the
mind. In youth, in health and prosperity, it awakens
feelings of gratitude and sublime love, and purifies at
the same time that it exalts ; but it is in misfortune, in
sickness, in age, that its effects are most truly and bene-
ficially felt ; when submission in faith, and humble trust
in the divine will, from duties become pleasures, unde-
caying sources of consolation ; then it creates powers
which were believed to be extinct, and gives a freshness
to the mind, which was supposed to have passed away
for ever, but which is now renovated as an immortal
hope ; then it is the Pharos, guiding the wave -tost ma-
riner to his home, as the calm and beautiful still basins
or fiords surrounded by tranquil groves and pastoral
meadows to the Norwegian pilot escaping from a heavy
storm in the north sea, or as the green and dewy spot
gushing with fountains to the exhausted and thirsty tra-
veller in the midst of the desert. Its influence outlives
all earthly enjoyments, and becomes stronger as the
organs decay and the frame dissolves ; it appears as that
evening star of light in the horizon of life, which, we
are sure, is to become in another season a morning star,
and it throws its radiance through the gloom and sha-
dow of death.

348
DIALOGUE THE FIFTH.

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER.

I HAD been made religious by the conversations of
Ambrosio in Italy ; my faith was strengthened and
exalted by the opinions of the Unknown, for whom,
I had not merely that veneration awakened by exalted
talents, but a strong affection founded upon the essen-
tial benefit of the preservation of my life owing to him.
I ventured, the evening after our visit to the cave of
Adelsberg, to ask him some questions relating to his
history and adventures. He said, to attempt to give
you any idea of the formation of my character, would
lead me into the history of my youth, which almost ap-
proaches to a tale of romance. The source of the
little information and intelligence I possess, I must
refer to a restless activity of spirit, a love of glory
which ever belonged to my infancy and a sensibility
easily excited and not easily conquered. My parent-
age was humble ; yet I can believe a traditional history
of my paternal grandmother, that the origin of our
family was from an old Norman stock; I found this
belief upon certain feelings which I can only refer to
an hereditary source, a pride of decorum, a tact and
refinement even in boyhood, and which are contra-
dictory to the idea of an origin from a race of peasants.
Accident opened to me in early youth a philosophical
career, which I pursued with success. In manhood,
fortune smiled upon me and made me independent ;
I then really became a philosopher, and pursued my
travels with the object of instructing myself and of
benefiting mankind. I have seen most parts of Europe,
and conversed, I believe, with all the illustrious men of

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 349

science belonging to them. My life has not been un-
like that of the ancient Greek sages. I have added
some little to the quantity of human knowledge, and
I have endeavoured to add something to the quantity
of human happiness. In my early life I was a sceptic ;
I have informed you how I became a believer ; and I
constantly bless the Supreme Intelligence for the favour
of some gleams of divine light which have been vouch-
safed to me in this our state of darkness and doubt.

Phil. — I am surprised that with your powers you did
not enter into a professional career either of law or
politics ; you would have gained the highest honours
and distinctions.

The Unknown. — To me there never has been a
higher source of honour or distinction than that con-
nected with advances in science. I have not possessed
enough of the eagle in my character to make a direct
flight to the loftiest altitudes in the social world ; and I
certainly never endeavoured to reach those heights by
using the creeping powers of the reptile, who in as-
cending, generally chooses the dirtiest path, because it
is the easiest.

EuB. — I have often wondered that men of fortune
and of rank do not apply themselves more to philo-
sophical pursuits ; they offer a delightful and enviable
road to distinction, one founded upon the blessings and
benefits conferred on our fellow creatures ; they do not
supply the same sources of temporary popularity as suc-
cesses in the senate or at the bar, but the glory result-
ing from them is permanent, and independent of vulgar
taste or caprice. In looking back to the history of the
last five reigns in England, we find Boyles, Caven-
dishes, and Howards, who rendered these great names
more illustrious by their scientific honours ; but we

350 DIALOGUE V.

may in vain search the aristocracy now for philo-
sophers, and there are very few persons who pursue
science with true dignity ; it is followed more as con-
nected with objects of profit than those of fame, and
there are fifty persons who take out patents for sup-
posed inventions for one who makes a real discovery.

Phil. — The information we have already received
from you proves to me that chemistry has been your
favourite pursuit. I am surprised at this. The higher
mathematics and pure physics appear to me to offer
much more noble objects of contemplation and fields
of discovery ; and, practically considered, the results of
the chemist are much more humble, belonging princi-
pally to the apothecary's shop and the kitchen.

EuB. — I feel disposed to join you in attacking this
favourite study of our friend, hut merely to provoke him
to defend it. I wish our attack would induce him to
vindicate his science, and that we might enjoy a little
of the sport of literary gladiators, at least, in order to
call forth his skill and awaken his eloquence.

The Unknown. — I have no objection. Let there be
a fair discussion ; remember we fight only with foils,
and the point of mine shall be covered with velvet.
In your attack upon chemistry, Philalethes, you limited
the use of it to the apothecary's shop and the kitchen.
The first is an equivocal use ; by introducing it into
the kitchen you make it an art fundamental to all
others. But if what you stated had really meant to be
serious, it would not have deserved a reply ; as it is in
mere playfulness, it shall not be thrown away ; I want
eloquence, however, to adorn my subject, yet it is suf-
ficiently exciting even to awaken feeling. Persons in
general look at the magnificent fabric of civilized
society as the result of the accumulated labour, in-

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 351

genuity, and enterprise of man through a long course
of ages, without attempting to define what has been
owing to the different branches of human industry and
science ; and usually attribute to politicians, statesmen,
and warriors, a much greater share than really belongs
to them in the work; — what they have done is in
reality little. The beginning of civilization is the dis-
covery of some useful arts by which men acquire
property, comforts, or luxuries. The necessity or
desire of preserving them leads to laws and social
institutions. The discovery of peculiar arts gives
superiority to particular nations ; and the love of
power induces them to employ this superiority to sub-
jugate other nations, who learn their arts, and ulti-
mately adopt their manners ; — so that in reality the
origin, as well as the progress, and improvement of
civil society is founded in mechanical and chemical in-
ventions. No people have ever arrived at any degree
of perfection in their institutions who have not pos-
sessed in a high degree the useful and refined arts.
The comparison of savage and civilized man, in fact,
demonstrates the triumph of chemical and mechanical
philosophy as the causes not only of the physical, but
ultimately even of moral improvement. Look at the
condition of man in the lowest state in which we are
acquainted with him. Take the native of New Hol-
land, advanced only a few steps above the animal
creation, and that principally by the use of fire ; naked,
defending himself against wild beasts or killing them for
food only by weapons made of wood hardened in the
fire, or pointed with stones or fish bones ; living only
in holes dug out of the earth, or in huts rudely con-
structed of a few branches of trees covered with grass :
having no approach to the enjoyment of luxuries or

352 DIALOGUE V.

even comforts ; unable to provide for his most pressing
vrants ; having a language scarcely articulate, relating
only to the great objects of nature, or to his most press-
ing necessities or desires, and living solitary or in single
families ; unacquainted with religion, government or
laws, submitted to the mercy of nature or the elements.
How different is man in his highest state of cultivation !
every part of his body covered with the products of
different chemical and mechanical arts made not only
useful in protecting him from the inclemency of the
seasons, but combined in forms of beauty and variety ;
creating out of the dust of the earth from the clay
under his feet instruments of use and ornament; ex-
tracting metals from the rude ore and giving to them
a hundred different shapes for a thousand different
purposes; selecting and improving the vegetable pro-
ductions with which he covers the earth ; not only sub-
duing but taming and domesticating the wildest, the
fleetest and the strongest inhabitants of the wood, the
mountain and the air ; making the winds carry him on
every part of the immense ocean ; and compelling the
elements of air, water, and even fire as it were to labour
for him ; concentrating in small space materials which
act as the thunderbolt and directing their energies so as
to destroy at immense distances; blasting the rock, re-
moving the mountain, carrying water from the valley to
the hill; perpetuating thought in imperishable words,
rendering immortal the exertion of genius and present-
ing them as common property to all awakening minds,
— becoming as it were the true image of divine in-
tellio;ence receivins; and bestowino; the breath of life in
the influence of civilization.

EuB. — Really you are in the poetical, not the chemical
chair, or rather on the tripod. We claim from you some

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 353

accuracy of detail, some minute information, some proofs
of what you assert. What you attribute to the chemi-
cal and mechanical arts, we might with the same pro-
priety attribute to the fine arts, to letters, to political
improvement, and to those inventions of which Minerva
and Apollo, not Vulcan, are the patrons.

The Unknown. — I will be more minute. You will
allow that the rendering skins insoluble in water by
combining with them the astringent principle of certain
vegetables is a chemical invention, and that without
leather our shoes, our carriages, our equipages would be
very ill made ; you will permit me to say, that the
bleaching and dyeing of wool and silk, cotton and flax are
chemical processes, and that the conversion of them into
cloth of different kinds is a mechanical invention ; that
the working of iron, copper, tin and lead and the other
metals, and the combining them in different alloys by
which almost all the instruments necessary for the
turner, the joiner, the stone-mason, the ship-builder
and the smith are made, are chemical inventions : even
the press, to the influence of which I am disposed to
attribute as much as you can do, could not have ex-
isted in any state of perfection without a metallic alloy ;
the combining of alkali and sand, and certain clays and
flints together to form glass and porcelain is a chemical
process ; the colours which the artist employs to frame
resemblances of natural objects, or to create combina-
tions more beautiful than ever existed in nature are de-
rived from chemistry ; in short, in every branch of the
common and fine arts, in every department of human
industry, the influence of this science is felt, and we
may find in the fable of Prometheus taking the flame
from heaven to animate his man of clay an emblem of
the effects of fire in its application to chemical purposes

S54 DIALOGUE V.

in creating the activity and almost the Ufe of civil
society.

Phil. — It appears to me that you attribute to science
whsit in many cases has been the result of accident. The
processes of most of the useful arts, which you call chemi-
cal, have been invented and improved without any refined
views, without any general system of knowledge. Lucre-
tius attributes to accident the discovery of the fusion of
the metals; a person in touching a shell-fish observes that
it emits a purple liquid as a dye, hence the Tyrian pur-
ple ; clay is observed to harden in the fire, and hence the
invention of bricks, which could hardly fail ultimately to
lead to the discovery of porcelain ; even glass, the most
perfect and beautiful of those manufactures you call
chemical, is said to have been discovered by accident;
Theophrastus states, that some merchants who were
cooking on some lumps of soda or natron, near the
mouth of the river Belus, observed that a hard and
vitreous substance was formed where the fused natron
ran into the sand.

The Unknown. — I will readily allow that accident
has had much to do with the origin of the arts as with
the progress of the sciences. But it has been by scien-
tific processes and experiments that these accidental re-
sults have been rendered really applicable to the pur-
poses of common life. Besides, it requires a certain
degree of knowledge and scientific combination to under-
stand and seize upon the facts which have originated in
accident. It is certain, that in all fires, alkaline sub-
stances and sand are fused together and clay hardened ;
yet for ages after the discovery of fire, glass and porce-
lain were unknown till some men of genius profited by
scientific combination often observed but never applied.
It suits the indolence of those minds w^iich never at-

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 355

tempt any thing, and which probably if they did at-
tempt any thing, would not succeed, to refer to accident
that which belongs to genius. It is sometimes said by
such persons, that the discovery of the law of gravitation,
was owing to accident ; and a ridiculous story is told of
the falling of an apple, as the cause of this discovery.
As w^ell might the invention of fluxions or the architec-
tural wonders of the dome of St. Peter's, or the miracles
of art, the St. John of Raphael or the Apollo Belvidere
be supposed to be owing to accidental combinations. In
the progress of an art, from its rudest to its most perfect
state, the whole process depends upon experiments.
Science is in fact nothing more than the refinement of
common sense making use of facts already known to
acquire new facts. Clays which are yellow are known
to burn red; calcareous earth renders flint fusible, — the
persons w^ho have improved earthenware made their se-
lections accordingly. Iron was discovered at least 1000-
years before it was rendered malleable ; and from what
Herodotus says of this discovery, there can be little
doubt that it was developed by a scientific worker in
metals. Vitruvius tells us, that the ceruleum, a colour
made of copper, which exists in perfection in all the old
paintings of the Greeks and Romans and on the mummies
of the Egyptians was discovered by an Egyptian king ;
there is therefore every reason to believe that it was not
the result of accidental combination, but of experiments
made for producing or improving colours. Amongst the
ancient philosophers, many discoveries are attributed to
Democritus and Anaxagoras ; and, connected with che-
mical arts, the narrative of the inventions of Archi-
medes alone, by Plutarch, would seem to show how
great is the effect of science in creating power. In modern
times the refining of sugar, the preparation of nitre.

356 DIALOGUE V.

the manufacturing of acids, salts, &c. are all results of
pure chemistry. Take gunpowder as a specimen ; no
person but a man infinitely diversifying his processes and
guided by analogy, could have made such a discovery.
Look into the books of the alchemists, and some idea
may be formed of the effects of experiments. It is true,
these persons were guided by false views, yet they made
most useful researches ; and Lord Bacon has justly com-
pared them to the husbandman, who searching for an
imaginary treasure, fertilized the soil. They might
likewise be compared to persons who, looking for gold,
discover the fragments of beautiful statues, w^hich sepa-
rately are of no value, and which appear of little value,
to the persons who found them ; but, which, when
selected and put together by artists and their defective
parts supplied, are found to be wonderfully perfect and
worthy of conservation. Look to the progress of the
arts, since they have been enlightened by a system of
science, and observe with what rapidity they have ad-
vanced. Again, the steam-engine in its rudest form was
the result of a chemical experiment ; in its refined state,
it required the combinations of all the most recondite
principles of chemistry and mechanics, and that excel-
lent philosopher who has given this wonderful instru-
ment of power to civil society was led to the great im-
provements he made by the discoveries of a kindred
genius on the heat absorbed when water becomes steam,
and of the heat evolved when the steam becomes
water. Even the most superficial observer must allow
in this case a triumph of science, for what a wonderful
impulse has this invention given to the progress of the
arts and manufactures in our country, how much has it
diminished labour, how much has it increased the real
strength of the country ! Acting, as it were with a

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 357

thousand hands^ it has multiplied our active population ;
and receiving its elements of activity from the bowels of
the earth, it performs operations which formerly w^ere
painful, oppressive and unhealthy to the labourers, with
regularity and constancy, and gives security and pre-
cision to the efforts of the manufacturer. And the in-
ventions, connected with the steam-engine, at the same
time that they have greatly diminished labour of body,
have tended to increase power of mind and intellectual
resources. Adam Smith well observes that manufacturers
are always more ingenious than husbandmen ; and
manufacturers who use machinery will probably always
be found more ingenious than handicraft manufacturers.
You spoke of porcelain as a result of accident ; the im-
provements invented in this country, as well as those
made in Germany and France, have been entirely the
result of chemical experiments ; the Dresden and the
Sevres manufactories have been the work of men of
science, and it was by multiplying his chemical researches
that Wedgewood was enabled to produce at so cheap a
rate those beautiful imitations, which while they surpass
the ancient vases in solidity and perfection of material,
equal them in elegance, variety and tasteful arrange-
ment of their forms. In another department, the use of
the electrical conductor, was a pure scientific combina-
tion, and the sublimity of the discover}^ of the American
philosopher was only equalled by the happy application
he immediateW made of it. In our own times, it would
be easy to point out numerous instances in which great
improvements and beneficial results connected with the
comforts, the happiness, and even life of our fellow
creatures have been the results of scientific combina-
tions; but, I cannot do this, without constituting myself
a judge of the works of philosophers who are still alive.

358 DIALOGUE V.

whose researches are known, whose labours are re-
spected and who will receive from posterity praises that
their contemporaries hardly dare to bestow upon them.
EuB. — We will allow that you have shown in many
cases the utility of scientific investigations, as connected
with the progress of the useful arts. But, in general,
both the principles of chemistry are followed, and series
of experiments performed without any view to utility ;
and, a great noise is made if a new metal or a new sub-
stance is discovered, or, if some abstracted law is made
known relating to the phenomena of nature ; yet,
amongst the variety of new substances, few have been
applied to any trifling use even, and the greater number
have had no application at all ; and, with respect to the
general views of the science, it would be difficult to
show that any real good had resulted from the discovery
or extension of them. It does not add much to the
dignity of a pursuit that those who have followed it for
profit, have really been most useful ; and that the mere
artizan or chemical manufacturer has done more for
society than the chemical philosopher. Besides, it has
always appeared to me, that it is in the nature of this
science to encourage mediocrity and to attach im-
portance to insignificant things; very slight chemical
labours seem to give persons a claim to the title of
philosopher ; to have dissolved a few grains of chalk in
an acid, to have shown that a very useless stone con-
tains certain known ingredients, or that the colouring
matter of a flower is soluble in acid and not in alkali, is
thought by some a foundation for chemical celebrity. I
once began to attend a course of chemical lectures, and
to read the journals containing the ephemeral pro-
ductions of this science ; I was dissatisfied with the
nature of the evidence which the professor adopted in

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 359

his demonstrations, and disgusted with the series of
observations and experiments which were brought for-
ward one month to be overturned the next ; in No-
vember, there was a Zingeberic acid which in January
was shown to have no existence ; one year there was a
vegetable acid, which the next was shown to be the
same as an acid known thirty years ago ; to-day a man
was celebrated for having discovered a new metal or a
new alkali, and thev flourished like the scenes in a new
pantomime, only to disappear. Then, the great object
of the hundred triflers in the science, appeared to be to
destroy the reputation of the three or four great men
whose labours were really useful and had in them some-
thing of dignity. And, there not being enough of
trifling results or false experiments to fill up the pages of
the monthly journals, the deficiency was supplied by
some crude theories or speculations of unknown persons,
or by some ill-judged censure or partial praise of the
editor.

The Unknown. — I deny in toto the accuracy of
what 3^ou are advancing. I have already shown that
real philosophers, not labouring for profit, have done
much by their own inventions for the useful arts ; and,
amongst the new substances discovered, many have had
immediate and very important applications. The chlo-
rine, or oxymuriatic gas of Scheele w^as scarcely known
before it was applied by Berthollet to bleaching; scarcely
was muriatic acid gas discovered by Priestley, when
Guy ton de Morveau used it for destroying contagion.
Consider the varied and diversified applications of
platinum, which has owed its existence as a useful metal
entirely to the labours of an illustrious chemical philo-
sopher; look at the beautiful yellow afforded by one
of the new metals, chrome ; consider the medical effects

360 DIALOGUE V.

of iodine, in some of the most painful and disgusting
maladies^ belonging to human nature, and remember
how short a time investigations have been made for ap-
plying the new substances. Besides, the mechanical or
chemical manufacturer has rarely discovered any thing ;
he has merely applied what the philosopher has made
known, he has merely worked upon the materials
furnished to him. We have no history of the manner
in which iron was rendered malleable ; but we know
that platinum could only have been worked by a person
of the most refined chemical resources, who made multi-
plied experiments upon it after the most ingenious and
profound views. But, waving all common utility, all
vulgar applications ; there is something in knowing and
understanding the operation of nature, some pleasure
in contemplating the order and harmony of the ar-
rangements belonging to the terrestrial system of things.
There is no absolute utility in poetry ; but it gives plea-
sure, refines and exalts the mind. Philosophic pursuits
have likewise a noble and independent use of this kind ;
and there is a double reason offered for pursuing them,
for, whilst in their sublime speculations they reach to
the heavens, in their application they belong to the
earth ; whilst they exalt the intellect, they provide
food for our common wants and likewise minister to the
noblest appetites and most exalted views belonging to
our nature. The results of this science are not like the
temples of the ancients, in which statues of the gods
were placed, where incense was offered and sacrifices
were performed, and which were presented to the ado-
ration of the multitude founded upon superstitious
feelings ; but, they are rather like the palaces of the
moderns, to be admired and used, and where the
* Cancer and bronchocele.

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 361

statues, which in the ancients raised feelings of adora-
tion and awe, now produce only feelings of pleasure
and gratify a refined taste. It is surely a pure delight
to know, how and by what processes this earth is clothed
with verdure and life, how the clouds, mists and rain
are formed, what causes all the changes of this terrestrial
system of things, and by what divine laws order is pre-
served amidst apparent confusion. It is a sublime oc-
cupation to investigate the cause of the tempest and the
volcano, and to point out their use in the economy of
things, — to bring the lightning from the clouds and make
it subservient to our experiments, — to produce as it were
a microcosm in the laboratory of art, and to measure
and weigh those invisible atoms, which, by their motions
and changes according to laws impressed upon them by
the Divine Intelligence, constitute the universe of things.
The true chemical philosopher sees good in all the
diversified forms of the external world. Whilst he in-
vestigates the operations of infinite power guided by
infinite wisdom, all low prejudices, all mean supersti-
tions disappear from his mind. He sees man an atom
amidst atoms fixed upon a point in space ; and yet
modifying the laws that are around him by under-
standing them ; and gaining, as it were, a kind of
dominion over time, and an empire in material space,
and exerting on a scale infinitely small a power seeming
a sort of shadow or reflection of a creative energy, and
which entitles him to the distinction of being made in
the image of God and animated by a spark of the
divine mind. Whilst chemical pursuits exalt the under-
standing, they do not depress the imagination or weaken
genuine feehngs ; whilst they give the mind habits of
accuracy, by obliging it to attend to facts, they likewise
extend its analogies ; and, though conversant with the

VOL. IX. R

362 DIALOGUE V.

minute forms of things, they have for their ultimate end
the great and magnificent objects of nature. They
regard the formation of a crystal, the structure of a
pebble, the nature of a clay or earth ; and they apply
to the causes of the diversity of our mountain chains,
the appearances of the winds, thunder-storms, meteors,
the earthquake, the volcano, and all those phenomena
which offer the most striking images to the poet and the
painter. They keep alive that inextinguishable thirst
after knowledge, which is one of the greatest charac-
teristics of our nature ; — for every discovery opens a
new field for investigation of facts, shows us the im-
perfection of our theories. It has justly been said, that
the greater the circle of light, the greater the boundary
of darkness by which it is surrounded. This strictly
applies to chemical inquiries; and, hence they are
wonderfully suited to the progressive nature of the
human intellect, which by its increasing efforts to
acquire a higher kind of wisdom, and a state in which
truth is fully and brightly revealed, seems as it w^ere to
demonstrate its birthright to immortality.

EuB. — I am glad that our opposition has led you to
so complete a vindication of your favourite science. I
want no farther proof of its utility. I regret that I have
not before made it a particular object of study.

Phil. — As our friend has so fully convinced us of the
importance of chemistry, I hope he will descend to
some particulars as to its real nature, its objects, its in-
struments. I would willingly have a definition of che-
mistry, and some idea of the qualifications necessary to
become a chemist, and of the apparatus essential for
understanding what has been already done in the
science, and for pursuing new inquiries.

The Unknown. — There is nothing more difficult

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 363

than a good definition, for it is scarcely possible to ex-
press, in a few words, the abstracted view of an infinite
variety of facts. Dr. Black has defined chemistry to be,
that science which treats of the changes produced in
bodies, by motions of their ultimate particles or atoms ;
but this definition is hypothetical, for the ultimate par-
ticles or atoms are mere creations of the imagination. I
will give you a definition, which will have the merit of
novelty, and which is probably general in its applica-
tion. Chemistry relates to those operations by tohich the
intimate nature of bodies is changed, or by lohich they ac-
quire neio properties. This definition will not only apply
to the effects of mixture, but to the phenomena of elec-
tricity, and, in short, to all the changes which do not
merely depend upon the motion or division of masses of
matter. However difficult it may have been to have
given you a definition of chemistry, it is still more diffi-
cult to give you a detail of all the qualities necessary for
a chemical philosopher. I will not name as many as
Athenaeus has named for a cook, who, he says, ought
to be a mathematician, a theoretical musician, a natural
philosopher, a natural historian, &:c., though you had a
disposition just now to make chemistry merely subser-
vient to the uses of the kitchen. But I will seriously
mention some of the studies fundamental to the higher
departments of this science : a man maybe a good prac-
tical chemist, perhaps, without possessing them ; but he
never can become a great chemical philosopher. The
person who wishes to understand the higher depart-
ments of chemistry, or to pursue them in their most in-
teresting relations to the economy of nature, ought to
be well grounded in elementary mathematics; he will
oftener have to refer to arithmetic than algebra ; and to
algebra than to geometry. But all these sciences lend

E 2

364 DIALOGUE V.

their aid to chemistry ; arithmetic, in determining the
proportions of analytical results, and the relative w eights
of the elements of bodies ; algebra, in ascertaining the
laws of the pressure of elastic fluids, the force of vapour,
as dependent upon temperature, and the effects of
masses and surfaces on the communication and radia-
tion of heat ; the applications of geometr}^ are principally
limited to the determination of the crystalline forms of
bodies, which constitute the most important type of
their nature, and often offer useful hints for analytical
researches respecting their composition. The first prin-
ciples of natural philosophy or general physics, ought
not to be entirely unknown to the chemist. As the
most active agents are fluids, elastic fluids, heat, light,
and electricity, he ought to have a general knowledge
of mechanics, hydronamics, pneumatics, optics, and
electricity. Latin and Greek among the dead, and
French among the modern languages, are necessary ;
and as the most important after French, German, and
Italian. In natural history and in literature, what be-
longs to a liberal eduction, such as that of our univer-
sities, is all that is required ; indeed, a young man who
has performed the ordinary course of college studies,
which are supposed fitted for common life and for re-
fined society, has all the preliminary knowledge neces-
sary to commence the study of chemistry. The appa-
ratus essential to the modern chemical philosopher, is
much less bulky and expensive, than that used by the
ancients. An air-pump, an electrical machine, a vol-
taic battery (all of which may be upon a small scale,) a
blow-pipe apparatus, a bellows and forge, a mercurial
and water-gas apparatus, cups and basins of platinum
and glass, and the common re-agents of chemistry, are
what are required. All the implements absolutely ne-

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 365

cessary may be carried in a small trunk ; and some of
the best and most refined researches of modern che-
mists have been made by means of an apparatus^ which
might with ease be contained in a small travelling
carriage, and the expense of which is only a few pounds.
The facility with which chemical inquiries are carried
on, and the simplicity of the apparatus, offer additional
reasons, to those I have already given, for the pursuit of
this science. It is not injurious to the health; the mo-
dern chemist is not like the ancient one, who passed the
greater part of his time exposed to the heat and smoke
of a furnace, and the unwholesome vapours of acids and
alkalies, and other menstrua, of which, for a single ex-
periment, he consumed several pounds. His processes
may be carried on in the drawing-room ; and some of
them are no less beautiful in appearance, than satisfac-
tory in their results. It was said by an author belong-
ing to the last century, of alchemy, " that its beginning
was deceit, its progress labour, and its end beggary." It
may be said of modern chemistry, that its beginning is
pleasure, its progress knowledge, and its objects truth
and utility. I have spoken of the scientific attainments
necessary for the chemical philosopher ; I will say a few
words of the intellectual qualities necessary for disco-
very, or for the advancement of the science. Amono-st
them patience, industry, and neatness in manipulation,
and accuracy and minuteness in observing and register-
ing the phenomena which occur, are essential. A
steady hand and a quick eye are most useful auxiliaries ;
but there have been very few great chemists who have
preserved these advantages through life ; for the business
of the laboratory is often a service of danger, and the
elements, like the refractory spirits of romance, thouo-h
the obedient slave of the magician, yet sometimes

366 DIALOGUE V.

escape the influence of his talisman, and endanger his
person. Both the hands and eyes of others, however,
may be sometimes advantageously made use of. By
often repeating a process or an observation, the errors
connected with hasty operations or imperfect views are
annihilated ; and, provided the assistant has no precon-
ceived notions of his own, and is ignorant of the object
of his employer in making the experiment, his simple
and bare detail of facts will often be the best foundation
for an opinion. With respect to the higher qualities of
intellect necessary for understanding and developing
the general laws of the science, the same talents I be-
lieve are required as for making advancement in every
other department of human knowledge ; I need not be
very minute. The imagination must be active and bril-
liant in seeking analogies ; yet entirely under the in-
fluence of the judgment in applying them. The me-
mory must be extensive and profound ; rather however
calling up general views of things, than minute trains of
thought ; — the mind must not be like an encyclopedia, a
burthen of knowledge, but rather a critical dictionary,
which abounds in generalities, and points out where
more minute information may be obtained. In detailing
the results of experiments, and in giving them to the
world, the chemical philosopher should adopt the
simplest style and manner ; he will avoid all ornaments,
as something injurious to his subject, and should bear
in mind the saying of the first King of Great Britain
respecting a sermon which was excellent in doctrine,
but overcharged with poetical allusions and figurative
language, " that the tropes and metaphors of the speaker
were like the brilliant wild flowers in a field of corn,
very pretty, but which did very much hurt the corn."
In announcing even the greatest and most important

THE CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHER. 367

discoveries, the true philosopher will communicate his
details Avith modesty and reserve ; he will rather be a useful
servant of the public, bringing forth a light from under
his cloak when it is needed in darkness, than a charlatan
exhibiting fireworks and having a trumpeter to an-
nounce their magnificence. I see you are smiling, and
think what I am saying in bad taste ; yet, notwithstand-
ing, I will provoke your smiles still farther, by saying a
word or two on his other moral qualities. That he
should be humble-minded, you will readily allow, and
a diligent searcher after truth; and neither diverted
from this great object, by the love of transient glory or
temporary popularity, looking rather to the opinion of
ages, than to that of a day, and seeking to be remem-
bered and named rather in the epochas of historians,
than in the columns of newspaper writers or journalists.
He should resemble the modern geometricians in the
greatness of his views and the profoundness of his re-
searches, and the ancient alchemists in industry and
piety. I do not mean that he should affix written
prayers and inscriptions of recommendations of his
processes to Providence, as was the custom of Peter
Wolfe, who was alive in my early days ; but his mind
should always be awake to devotional feeling, and in
contemplating the variety and the beauty of the ex-
ternal world, and developing its scientific wonders, he
will always refer to that infinite wisdom, through whose
beneficence he is permitted to enjoy knowledge ; and,
in becoming wiser, he will become better, — he will rise
at once in the scale of intellectual and moral existence,
his increased sagacity will be subservient to a more ex-
alted faith, and in proportion as the veil becomes
thinner, through which he sees the causes of things, he
will admire more the brightness of the divine light, by
which they are rendered visible.

368
DIALOGUE THE SIXTH.

POLA, OR TIME.

During our stay in Hljria, I made an excursion by
water with the Unknown, my preserver, now become my
friend, and Eubathes, to Pola, in Istria. We entered the
harbour of Pola in a fihicca, when the sun was setting ;
and I know no scene more splendid than the amphi-
theatre seen from the sea in this light. It appears not
as a building in ruins, but like a newly erected work; and
the reflection of the colours of its brilliant marble and
beautiful forms, seen upon the calm surface of the waters,
gave to it a double effect, that of a glorious production
of art, and of a magnificent picture. We examined
with pleasure the remains of the arch of Augustus and
the temple, very perfect monuments of imperial grandeur.
But the splendid exterior of the amphitheatre was not
in harmony with the bare and naked walls of the inte-
rior ; there were none of those durable and grand seats
of marble, such as adorn the amphitheatre of Verona ; —
from which it is probable, that the whole of the arena
and conveniences for the spectators had been constructed
of wood. Their total disappearance led us to reflect
upon the causes of the destruction of so many of the
works of the elder nations. I said, in our metaphysical
abstractions, w^e refer the changes, the destruction of
material forms, to time, but there must be physical laws
in nature by which they are produced ; and I begged
our new friend to give us some ideas on this subject, in
his character of chemical philosopher. If human science,
I said, has discovered the principle of the decay of
things, it is possible that human art may supply means

POLA, OR TIME. 369

of conservation, and bestow immortality on some of the
works which appear destined, by their perfection, for
future ages.

The Unknown. — I shall willingly communicate to
you my views of the operation of Time, philosophically
considered. A great philosopher has said, man can in
no other way command nature, but in obeying her laws;
and, in these laws, the principle of change is a principle
of life ; without decay, there can be no reproduction ;
and, every thing belonging to the earth, whether in its
primitive state, or modified by human hands, is sub-
mitted to certain and immutable laws of destruction, as
permanent and universal as those which produce the
planetary motions. The property, which, as far as our
experience extends, universally belongs to matter, gra-
vitation, is the first and most general cause of change in
our terrestrial system ; and, whilst it preserves the great
mass of the globe in a uniform state, its influence is
continually producing alterations upon the surface. The
water, raised in vapour by the solar heat, is precipitated
by the cool air in the atmosphere ; it is carried down
by gravitation to the surface, and gains its mechanical
force from this law. Whatever is elevated above the
superficies by the powers of vegetation, or animal life,
or by the efibrts of man, by gravitation, constantly tends
to the common centre of attraction ; and, the great rea-
son of the duration of the pyramid, above all other
forms, is, that it is most fitted to resist the force of gra-
vitation. The arch, the pillar, and all perpendicular
constructions, are liable to fall, when a degradation from
chemical or mechanical causes takes place in their infe-
rior parts. The forms upon the surface of the globe are
preserved from the influence of gravitation by the attrac-
tion of cohesion, or by chemical attraction ; but, if their

R 5

370 DIALOGUE VI.

parts had freedom of motion, they would all be levelled
by this power, gravitation, and the globe would appear
as a plain and smooth oblate spheroid, flattened at the
poles. The attraction of cohesion, or chemical attrac-
tion in its most energetic state, is not liable to be de-
stroyed by gravitation: this power only assists the
agencies of other causes of degradation ; attraction, of
whatever kind, tends, as it were, to produce rest, a sort
of eternal sleep in nature. The great antagonist power
is heat. By the influence of the sun, the globe is ex-
posed to great varieties of temperature : an addition of
heat expands bodies, and an abstraction of heat causes
them to contract ; by variation of heat, certain kinds of
matter are rendered fluid, or elastic, and changes from
fluids into solids, or from solids or fluids into elastic sub-
stances, and vice versa, are produced; and all these
phenomena are connected with alterations tending to
the decay or destruction of bodies. It is not probable
that the mere contraction or expansion of a solid, from
the subtraction or addition of heat, tends to loosen its
parts ; but if water exists in these parts, then its expan-
sion, either in becoming vapour or ice, tends not only
to diminish their cohesion, but to break them into frag-
ments. There is, you know, a very remarkable pro-
perty of water, its expansion by cooling, and at the time
of becoming ice, and this is a great cause of destruction
in the northern climates ; for where ice forms in the
crevices or cavities of stones, or when water, which has
penetrated into cement, freezes, its expansion acts with
the force of the lever or the screw, in destroying or sepa-
rating the parts of bodies. The mechanical powers of
water, as rain, hail, or snow, in descending from the
atmosphere, are not entirely without effect ; for in act-
ing upon the projections of solids, drops of water, or

POLA, OR TIME. 371

particles of snow, and still more of hail, have a power of
abrasion ; and a very soft substance, from its mass as-
sisting gravitation, may break a much harder one. The
glacier, by its motion, grinds into powder the surface of
the granite rock, and the Alpine torrents that have their
origin under glaciers, are always turbid, from the destruc-
tion of the rocks on which the glacier is formed. The
effect of a torrent, in deepening its bed, will explain the
mechanical agency of fluid water ; though this effect is
infinitely increased, and sometimes almost entirely de-
pendent upon the solid matters which are carried down
by it. An angular fragment of stone, in the course of
ages, moved in the cavity of a rock, makes a deep round
excavation, and is worn itself into a spherical form. A tor-
rent of rain flowing down the side of a building, carries
with it the silicious dust, or sand,or matter whi'chthe wind
has deposited there, and acts upon a scale infinitely more
minute, but according to the same law. The buildings of
ancient Rome have not only been liable to the constant
operation of the rain courses, or minute torrents pro-
duced by rains, but even the Tiber, swollen with floods of
the Sabine mountains and the Apennines, has often
entered into the city, and a winter seldom passes away
in which the area of the Pantheon has not been filled
with water, and the reflection of the cupola seen in a
smooth lake below. The monuments of Egypt are
perhaps the most ancient and permanent of those be-
longing to the earth, and in that country rain is almost
unknown. And all the causes of degradation con-
nected with the agency of water act more in the
temperate climates that in the hot ones, and most of
all in those countries where the inequalities of tempe-
rature are greatest. The mechanical effects of air are
principally in the action of winds in assisting the opera-

372 DIALOGUE VI.

tion of gravitation, and in abrading by dust, sand,
stones, and atmospheric water. These effects, unless
it be in the case of a building blown down by a
tempest, are imperceptible in days, or even years ; yet
a gentle current of air carrying the silicious sand of the
desert, or the dust of a road for ages against the face of
a structure, must ultimately tend to injure it, for with
infinite or unlimited duration, an extremely small cause
will produce a very great effect. The mechanical agency
of electricity is very limited; the effects of lightning
have, however, been witnessed, even in some of the
great monuments of antiquity, the Colosseum at Rome,
for instance ; and only last year, in a violent thunder-
storm, some of the marble, I have been informed, was
struck from the top of one of the arches in this build-
ing, and a perpendicular rent made, of some feet in
diameter. But the chemical effects of electricity,
though excessively slow and gradual, yet are much
more efficient in the great work of destruction. It is
to the general chemical doctrines of the changes pro-
duced by this powerful agent that I must now direct
your especial attention.

EuB. — Would not the consideration of the subject
have been more distinct, and your explanations of the
phenomena more simple, had you commenced by di-
viding the causes of change into mechanical and chemi-
cal,— if you had first considered them separately, and
then their joint effects ?

The Unknown. — The order I have adopted is not
very remote from this. But I was perhaps wrong in
treating first of the agency of gravitation, which owes
almost all its powers to the operation of other causes.
In consequence of your hint, I shall alter my plan a
little, and consider first the chemical agency of water,

POLA, OR TIME. 373

then that of air, and lastly that of electricity. In every
species of chemical change, temperature is concerned.
But unless the results of volcanos and earthquakes be
directly referred to this power, it has no chemical effect
in relation to the changes ascribed to time simply
considered as heat, but its operations, which are
the most important belonging to the terrestrial cycle
of changes, are blended with, or bring into activity,
those of other agents. One of the most distinct
and destructive agencies of water depends upon its
solvent powers, which are usually greatest when its
temperature is highest. Water is capable of dis-
solving, in larger or smaller proportions, most com-
pound bodies, and the calcareous and alkaline ele-
ments of stones are particularly liable to this kind
of operation. When water holds in solution car-
bonic acid, which is always the case when it is pre-
cipitated from the atmosphere, its power of dissolving
carbonate of lime is very much increased, and in the
neighbourhood of great cities, where the atmosphere
contains a large proportion of this principle, the solvent
powers of rain upon the marble exposed to it must be
greatest. W hoever examines the marble statues in the
British Museum, which have been removed from the
exterior of the Parthenon, will be convinced that they
have suffered from this agency ; and an effect distinct
in the pure atmosphere and temperate climate of
Athens, must be upon a higher scale in the vicinity of
other great European cities, where the consumption of
fuel produces carbonic acid in large quantities. Me-
tallic substances, such as iron, copper, bronze, brass,
tin and lead, whether they exist in stones, or are used
for support or connexion in buildings, are liable to be
corroded by water holding in solution the principles of

374 DIALOGUE VI.

the atmosphere ; and the rust and corrosion, which are
made, poetically, qualities of time, depend upon the
oxydating powers of water, which by supplying oxygen
in a dissolved or condensed state, enables the metals to
form new combinations. All the vegetable substances,
exposed to water and air, are liable to decay, and even
the vapour in the air attracted by wood, gradually re-
acts upon its fibres and assists decomposition, or enables
its elements to take new arrangements. Hence it is that
none of the roofs of ancient buildings more than 1000
years old remain, unless it be such as are constructed of
stone, as those of the Pantheon of Rome and the tomb
of Theodoric at Ravenna, the cupola of which is com-
posed of a single block of marble. The pictures of
the Greek masters, which were painted on the wood of
the abies, or pine of the Mediterranean, as we are inform-
ed by Pliny, owed their destruction likewise, not to a
change in the colours, not to the alteration of the cal-
careous ground on which they were painted, but to the
decay of the tablets of wood on which the intonaco or
stucco was laid. Amongst the substances employed in
building, wood, iron, tin, and lead, are most liable to
decay from the operation of water; then marble, when
exposed to its influence in the' fluid form ; brass,
copper, granite, sienite and porphyry are more durable.
But, in stones, much depends upon the peculiar nature
of their constituent parts; when the feldspar of the
granite rocks contains little alkali or calcareous earth,
it is a very permanent stone; but when, in granite,
porphyry or sienite, either the feldspar contains much
alkaline matter, or the mica, schorl or hornblende much
protoxide of iron, the action of water containing oxy-
gen and carbonic acid on the ferruginous elements tends
to produce the disintegration of the stone. The red

POLA, OR TIME. 375

granite, black sienite and red porphyry of Egypt, which
are seen at Rome in obehsks, cohirans and sarcophagi,
are amongst the most durable compound stones; but
the grey granites of Corsica and Elba are extremely
liable to undergo alteration, — the feldspar contains much
alkaline matter, and the mica and schorl much protoxide
of iron. A remarkable instance of the decay of granite
may be seen in the hanging tower of Pisa ; whilst the
marble pillars in the basement remain scarcely altered,
the granite ones have lost a considerable portion of their
surface, which falls off continually in scales, and ex-
hibits every where stains from the formation of per-
oxide of iron. The kaolin, or clay, used in most
countries for the manufacture of fine porcelain or
china, is generally produced from the feldspar of de-
composing granite, in which the cause of decay is the
dissolution and separation of the alkaline ingredients.

EuB. — I have seen serpentines, basalts and lavas
which internally w^ere dark, and which from their
weight, I should suppose, must contain oxide of iron,
superficially brown or red and decomposing. Un-
doubtedly this was from the action of water impreg-
nated with air upon their ferruginous elements.

The Unknown. — You are perfectly right. There
are few compound stones, possessing a considerable
specific gravity, which are not liable to change from
this cause ; and oxide of iron amongst the metallic sub-
stances anciently known, is the most generally diffused in
nature, and most concerned in the changes which take
place on the surface of the globe. The chemical action
of carbonic acid, is so much connected with that of
water, that it is scarcely possible to speak of them
separately, as must be evident from what I have before
said : but the same action which is exerted by the acid

376 DIALOGUE vr.

dissolved in water is likewise exerted by it in its elastic
state, and in this case the facility with which the
quantity is changed makes up for the difference of the
degree of condensation. There is no reason to believe
that the azote of the atmosphere has any considerable
action in producing changes of the nature we are study-
ing on the surface ; the aqueous vapour, the oxygen
and the carbonic acid gas, are, however, constantly in
combined activity, and above all, the oxygen. And,
whilst water, uniting its effects with those of carbonic
acid, tends to disintegrate the parts of stones, the oxy-
gen acts upon vegetable matter ; and this great che-
mical agent is at once necessary, in all the processes of
life and in all those of decay, in which nature, as it
were, takes again to herself those instruments, organs
and powers, which had for a while been borrowed
and employed for the purpose or the wants of the
living principle. Almost every thing effected by
rapid combinations in combustion, may also be ef-
fected gradually by the slow absorption of ox^^gen; and
though the productions of the animal and vegetable
kingdom are much more submitted to the power of
atmospheric agents than those of the mineral kingdom,
yet, as in the instances which have just been mentioned,
oxygen gradually destroys the equilibrium of the ele-
ments of stones, and tends to reduce into powder, to
render fit for soils, even the hardest aggregates belong-
ing to our globe. Electricity, as a chemical agent, may
be considered, not only as directly producing an infinite
variety of changes, but likewise as influencing almost
all which take place. There are not two substances on
the surface of the globe, that are not in different elec-
trical relations to each other ; and chemical attraction
itself seems to be a peculiar form of the exhibition of

POLA, OR TIME. 377

electrical attraction; and, wherever the atmosphere, or
water, or any part of the surface of the earth gains ac-
cumulated electricity of a different kind from the con-
tiguous surfaces, the tendency of this electricity is to
produce new arrangements of the parts of these sur-
faces ; thus, a positively electrical cloud, acting even at
a great distance on a moistened stone, tends to attract
its oxygenous or acidiform or acid ingredients, and, a
negatively electrified cloud has the same effect upon its
earthy, alkaline, or metallic matter ; and the silent and
slow operation of electricity is much more important in
the economy of nature than its grand and impressive
operation in lightning and thunder. The chemical
agencies of water and air, are assisted by those of elec-
tricity; and their joint effects combined with those of
gravitation and the mechanical ones I first described,
are sufficient to account for the results of time. But,
the physical powers of nature in producing decay, are
assisted likewise by certain agencies or energies of or-
ganized beings. A polished surface of a building, or a
statue, is no sooner made rough from the causes that
have been mentioned, than the seeds of lichens and
mosses, which are constantly floating in our atmosphere,
make it a place of repose, grow and increase, and from
their death, their decay and decomposition, carbonaceous
matter is produced, and at length a soil is formed, in
which grass can fix its roots. In the crevices of walls,
where this soil is washed down, even the seeds of trees
grow, and, gradually as a building becomes more ruined,
ivy and other parasitical plants cover it. Even the
animal creation lends its aid in the process of destruc-
tion, when man no longer labours for the conservation
of his works. The fox burrows amongst ruins, bats and
birds nestle in the cavities in walls, the snake and the

378 DIALOGUE VI.

lizard likewise make them their habitation. Insects
act upon a smaller scale, but by their united energies
sometimes produce great effect ; the ant, by establishing
her colony and forming her magazines, often saps the
foundations of the strongest buildings, and the most
insignificant creatures triumph as it were over the
grandest works of man. Add, to th se sure and slow
operations, the devastations of war, the effects of the
destructive zeal of bigotry, the predatory fury of bar-
barians seeking for concealed wealth under the founda-
tions of buildings, and tearing from them every metallic
substance, — and it is rather to be wondered, that any of
the works of the great nations of antiquity are still in
existence,

Phil. — Your view of the causes of devastation really
is a melancholy one. Nor do I see any remedy ; the
most important causes will always operate. Yet, sup-
posing the constant existence of a highly civilized
people, the ravages of time might be repaired, and by
defending the finest works of art from the external
atmosphere, their changes would be scarcely perceptible.

EuB. — I doubt much, whether it is for the interests
of a people, that its public works should be of a durable
kind. One of the great causes of the decline of the
Roman empire was, that the people of the republic and
of the first empire left nothing for their posterity to
do; aqueducts, temples, forums, every thing was sup-
plied, and there were no objects to awaken activity, no
necessity to stimulate their inventive faculties, and
hardly any wants to call forth their industry.

The Unknown, — At least, you must allow the im-

. portance of preserving objects of the fine arts. Almost

every thing we have worthy of admiration, is owing to

what has been preserved from the Greek school ; and

POLA, OR TIME. 379

the nations, who have not possessed these works or
models, have made little or no progress towards perfec-
tion. Nor does it seem that a mere imitation of nature
is sufficient to produce the beautiful or perfect ; but,
the climate, the manners, customs and dress of the
people, its genius and taste all co-operate. Such prin-
ciples of conservation, as Phil ale thes has referred to,
are obvious. No works of excellence ought to be ex-
posed to the atmosphere ; and it is a great object to
preserve them in apartments of equable temperature
and extremely dry. The roofs of magnificent buildings,
should be of materials not likely to be dissolved by
water, or changed by air. Many electrical conductors
should be placed so as to prevent the slow or the rapid
effects of atmospheric electricity. In painting, lapis
lazuli, or coloured hard glasses in which the oxides are
not liable to change, should be used, and should be laid
on marble, or stucco incased in stone, and no animal or
vegetable substances, except pure carbonaceous matter,
should be used in the pigments, and none should be
mixed with the varnishes.

EuB. — Yet, when all is done, that can be done, in
the work of conservation, it is only producing a differ-
ence in the degree of duration. And from the state-
ments that our friend has made, it is evident that none
of the works of a mortal being can be eternal, as none
of the combinations of a limited intellect can be infi-
nite. The operations of nature, when slow, are no less
sure ; however man may, for a time, usurp dominion
over her, she is certain of recovering her empire. He
converts her rocks, her stones, her trees, into forms of
palaces, houses and ships; he employs the metals found
in the bosom of the earth as instruments of power, and
the sands and clays which constitute its surface as orna-

380 DIALOGUE VI.

mcnts and resources of luxury ; he imprisons air by
water, and tortures water by fire to change or modify or
destroy the natural forms of things. But, in some
lustrums his works begin to change, and in a few cen-
turies they decay and are in ruins ; and, his mighty
temples, framed as it were for immortal and divine pur-
poses, and his bridges formed of granite and ribbed
with iron, and his walls for defence, and the splendid
monuments by which he has endeavoured to give eter-
nity even to his perishable remains, are gradually de-
stroyed ; and these structures, which have resisted the
waves of the ocean, the tempests of the sky, and the
stroke of the lightning, shall yield to the operation of
the dews of heaven, of frost, rain, vapour and imper-
ceptible atmospheric influences ; and, as the worm de-
vours the lineaments of his mortal beauty, so the lichens
and the moss, and the most insignificant plants shall
feed upon his columns and his pyramids, and the most
humble and insignificant insects shall undermine and
sap the foundations of his colossal works, and make
their habitations amongst the ruins of his palaces, and
the falling seats of his earthly glory.

Phil. — Your history of the laws of the inevitable de-
struction of material forms, recalls to my memory our
discussion at Adelsbero-n The changes of the material
universe are in harmony with those which belong to the
human body, and which you suppose to be the frame or
machinery of the sentient principle. May we not
venture to imagine, that the visible and tangible world,
with which we are acquainted by our sensations, bears
the same relation to the divine and infinite Intelligence,
that our organs bear to our mind ; — with this only dif-
ference, that in the changes of the divine system, there
is no decay, there being in the order of things a perfect

POLA, OR TIME. 381

unity, and all the powers springing from one will, and
being a consequence of that will, are perfectly and un-
alterably balanced. Newton seemed to apprehend, that
in the laws of the planetary motions, there was a prin-
ciple which would ultimately be the cause of the de-
struction of the system. Laplace by pursuing and
refining the principles of our great philosopher, has
proved, that what appeared sources of disorder, are in
fact the perfecting machinery of the system, and that
the principle of conservation is as eternal as that of
motion.

The Unknown. — I dare not offer any speculations
on this grand and awful subject. Wc can hardly com-
prehend the cause of a simple atmospheric phenomenon,
such as the fall of a heavy body from a meteor ; we
cannot even embrace in one view the millionth part of
the objects surrounding us, and yet, we have the pre-
sumption to reason upon the infinite universe and the
eternal mind by which it was created and is governed.
On these subjects, I have no confidence in reason, I
trust only to faith, and as far as we ought to inquire, we
have no other guide but revelation.

Phil. — I agree with you, that whenever we attempt
metaphysical speculations we must begin with a founda-
tion of faith. And, being sure from revelation, that
God is omnipotent and omnipresent, it appears to me
no improper use of our faculties, to trace even in the
natural universe, the acts of his power and the results
of his wisdom, and to draw parallels from the infinite to
the finite mind. Remember, we are taught, that man
was created in the image of God, and I think, it cannot
be doubted, that in the progress of society, man has
been made a great instrument by his energies and la-
bours for improving the moral universe. Compare the

382 DIALOGUE VI.

Greeks and Romans with the Assyrians and Babylo-
nians, and the ancient Greeks and Romans with the
nations of modern Christendom, and it cannot, I think,
be questioned, that there has been a great superiority in
the latter nations, and that their improvements have
been subservient to a more exalted state of intellectual
and religious existence. If this little globe has been so
modified by its powerful and active inhabitants, I can-
not help thinking, that in other systems, beings of a
superior nature, under the influence of a divine will,
may act nobler parts. We know from the sacred writings
that there are intelligences of a higher nature than man,
and I cannot help sometimes referring to my vision in
the Colosseum, and in supposing some acts of power of
those genii or seraphs similar to those which I have
imagined in the higher planetary systems. There is
much reason to infer, from astronomical observations,
that great changes take place in the system of the fixed
stars ; Sir William Herschel, indeed, seems to have be-
lieved, that he saw nebulous or luminous matter in the
process of forming suns ; and there are some astrono-
mers who believe that stars have been extinct ; but, it
is more probable that they have disappeared from pecu-
liar motions. It is, perhaps, rather a poetical than a
philosophical idea, yet I cannot help forming the opi-
nion, that genii or seraphic intelligences may inhabit
these systems, and may be the ministers of the eternal
mind, in producing changes in them similar to those
which have taken place on the earth. Time is almost
a human word and change entirely a human idea ; in
the system of nature we should rather say progress than
change. The sun appears to sink in the ocean in dark-
ness, but it rises in another hemisphere ; the ruins of a
city fall, but they are often used to form more magni-

ON THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS. 383

ficent structures^ as at Rome ; but, even when they are
destroyed, so as to produce only dust, nature asserts
her empire over them, and the vegetable world rises in
constant youth, and, in a period of annual successions,
by the labours of man providing food, vitality and
beauty upon the wrecks of monuments which were once
raised for purposes of glory, but w^hich are now applied
to objects of utility.

DIALOGUE THE SEVENTH.

ON THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS.*

SCENE — THE APENNINES ABOVE PERUGIA.

Phil. — Notwithstanding the magnificence of the Al-
pine country and the beauty of the upper part of Italy,
yet the scenery now before us has peculiar charms,
dependent not only upon the variety and grandeur of
the objects which it displays, but likewise upon its his-
torical relations. The hills are all celebrated in the
early history of Italy, and many of them are crowned
by Etruscan towns. The lake of Thrasimene spreads its
broad and calm mirror beneath a range of hills covered

* [The Dialogue of which this fragment was the commencement,
according to the original plan of the author, was intended to have fol-
lowed one on the doctrine of definite proportions, which was partly-
written, and from which an extract has been given in the fifth volume.
For the sake of uniformity, the designations of the speakers, as used
in the preceding pages, have been continued : in the original, others
were employed; the Unknown stands for Philo-chemicus, and Phila-
lethes for Poietes.]

384 DIALOGUE VII.

with oak and chesnut; and the eminence where Han-
nibal marshalled that army which had nearly deprived
Rome of empire, is now of a beautiful green from the
rising corn. Here the Tiber runs a clear and bright
blue mountain stream, meriting the epithet of cej^uleus
bestowed upon it by Virgil; and there the Chiusan
marsh sends its tributary streams from the same level
to the rivers of Etruria and Latium. In the extreme
distance are the woods of the Sabine country, bright
with the purple foliage of the Judah tree, extending
along the sides of blue hills, which again are capped by
snowy mountains. How rich and noble is the scene !
How vast its extent ! How diversified its colours !

EuB. — The profusion of the rich tree, which renders
the woods of so bright a colour, perhaps gave origin to
the expression ver purpureum.

The Unknown. — The epithet purple will apply with
equal justice to the w^oods of Sabina and the plains of
Umbria, where the sainfoin gives the predominating
tint, and it is now in full and luxuriant blossom, and
the banks of the Clitumnus are, as it were, lighted up
by this brilliant colour.

EuB. — Nature in this view is probably nearly the
same as it v*^as 2000 years ago ; h\xt hoio man is changed!
— improved in civilization, but enfeebled in cha-
racter. How unlike the ancient Umbrians and Sa-
bines are the people who inhabit these mountains and
valleys !

The Unknown. — The reason is obvious enough.
Man is formed by his institutions ; and moral and poli-
tical causes almost create his character; whereas nature
is governed by fixed laws. The atmosphere, the moun-
tains, the valleys, the plains, the degrees of heat and
cold, with small differences, have continued the same ;

ON THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS. 385

and whether peopled or deserted, the soil will always
produce fruits or flowers, wild or cultivated.

Phil, — If the exterior of the globe is liable to small
changes only, there must be a permanency in the ele-
ments of things ; something must be unalterable. Will
you give us some ideas respecting this part of your phi-
losophy,— which are the true elements of things? If
there be a permanency or constancy in the arrangements
of nature, matter cannot be infinite either in its divisi-
bility or changes : pray give us some light on these ob-
scure and difficult matters.

The Unknown. — I shall willingly enter upon this
subject. I cannot demonstrate to you what are the
true elements of things ; but I can exhibit to you those
substances, which, as we cannot decompose them, are
elementary for us : mathematically considered, it appears
possible to prove the infinite divisibility of matter ; but
our mechanical means of division are extremely limited.
There is every reason to believe that our powers of chemi-
cal decomposition are far from having reached their ulti-
matum ; yet in the operations of nature, as well as in those
of art, certain substances appear to be unchangeable ;
thus, if we take a metal, such as iron, and dissolve it
in an acid, or sublime it in union with an elastic fluid,
or make it enter into a hundred combinations, it may
still be recovered unaltered in its properties, the same
in substance and in quantity. The test of a body being
indecomposable is, that in all chemical changes it in-
creases in weight, or its changes result from its com-
bining with new matter. Thus when mercury is con-
verted into a red powder by being heated in the air, it
gains in weight. The test of a body being compound is,
that in assuming new forms it loses w^eight ; thus, when
the olive-coloured substance called oxide of silver is

AOL. IX, s

386 DIALOGUE VII.

converted into silver by heat, it weighs less than before ;
but in all cases, either of gain or loss of weight, the
circumstance depends either upon matter absorbed, or
matter emitted, which is either soUd, fluid, or aeriform,
and which can be always collected and weighed. The
metals, sulphur, phosphorus, carbon, silenium, iodine,
brome, and certain elastic fluids are the only substances
as far as our knowledge extends, which can be neither
produced from other forms of matter, nor be converted
into them. I explained to you on a former occasion
that each of these substances enters into combinations
in the same relative proportions, or in some multiple of
those proportions ; and hence the idea has been enter-
tained that they are minute indestructible particles,
having always the same figure and weight. The weights
of the smallest known relative proportions of the unde-
composable bodies are these: — Hydrogen 1; chlorine
35*42 ; oxygen 8; fluorine 18*68 ; iodine 126*3 ; bromine
78*4 ; azote 14*15 ; sulphur 16*1 ; phosphorus 15*7 ;
carbon 6*12 ; boron 10*9 ; selenium 39*6; silicium 7*5;
aluminum 13*7 ; glucinum 17*7 ; ittrium 32*2 ; mag-
nesium 12*7 ; zirconium 33*7 ; thorium 59*6; potassium
39*15; sodium 23*3; Ihhium 10; strontium 43*8;
barium 68*7; calcium 20*5; manganese 27*7; zinc
32.3 ; iron 28 ; tin 58*9 ; arsenic 37*7 ; molybdenum
47*96 ; chromium 28 ; tungsten 94*8 ; columbium 185;
antimony 64*6; uranium 217; cerium 46; cobalt
29*5; titanium 24*3 ; bismuth 71 ; copper 31*6; tellu-
rium 32*3; cadmium 55*8; nickel 29*5; lead 103*6;
mercury 202 ; osmium 99*7 ; silver 108 ; palladium
53-3; rhodium 52*2; gold 199*2; iridium 98*8; plati-
num 98*8.=^

[* These numbers are taken from the table of equivalents of ele-
mentary substances formed by the late Dr Turner, and inserted in his

ON THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS. 387

Phil — What is your idea of the cause of this dif-
ference of weight ? Do you suppose their particles like-
wise of different sizes, or that they are of the same size,
and have a different quantity of pores, or that their
figures are different ?

The Unknown. — These questions cannot be an-
swered except by conjectures. At some time possibly
we may be able to solve them by an hypothesis which
will satisfactorily explain the chemical phenomena ; but
as we can never see the elementary particles of bodies,
our reasoning upon them must be founded upon ana-
logies derived from mechanics, and the idea that small
indivisible particles follow the same laws of motion as
the masses which they compose.

EuB. — I think it is contrary to the principles of sound
philosophy to reason in this way. In mathematics it is
always supposed that lines are composed from points,
surfaces from lines, solids from surfaces ; yet the ele-
ments bear no relation to their compounds. Again in
light : according to your principle, white light would be
composed of many particles of white light; whereas
analysis proves it to be composed of various coloured
particles, each differing from the other. On the hypo-
thesis of Boscovitch, which is well explained in the
Institutio Physica of Mako, matter, as well as I recollect,
is supposed to be composed of indivisible points en-
dowed with attraction and repulsion, which are as-
sumed to be both physical and chemical elements.

Elements of Chemistry, the edition of 1834. The numbers 8 and
35*42 are given for oxygen and chlorine respectively, on the supposition,
that water, and muriatic acid gas is each composed of one proportion of
the constituent elements : should the view of the author be preferred,
who, in his Elements of Chemical Philosophy, considered water as con-
sisting of two proportions of hydrogen to one of oxygen and muriatic
acid gas similarly constituted, all that is necessary is to multiply 8 and
35*42 by 2, and the numbers of all the other bodies accordingly.]

388 DIALOGUE VII.

The Unknown. — You mistake me if you suppose I
have adopted a system like the Homooia of Anaxagoras,
and that I suppose the elements to be physical molecules
endowed with the properties of the bodies we believe to
be indecomposable. On the contrary, I neither sup-
pose in them figure nor colour, — both would imply a
power of reflecting light : I consider them, with Bosco-
vitch, merely as points possessing weight and attractive
and repulsive powers ; and composing according to the
circumstances of their arrangements either spherules or
regular solids, and capable of assuming either one form
or the other. All that is necessary for the doctrines of
the corpuscular philosophy is to suppose the molecules
which we are not able to decompose, spherical mole-
cules ; and that by the arrangement of spherical mole-
cules regular solids are formed ; and that the molecules
have certain attractive and repulsive powers which cor-
respond to negative and positive electricity. This is
not mere supposition unsupported by experiments ;
there are various facts which give probability to the
idea, which I shall now state to you. The first fact is,
that all bodies are capable of being rendered fluid by a
certain degree of heat, which supposes a freedom of
motion in their particles that cannot be well explained
except by supposing them spherical in the fluid state.
The second fact is, that all bodies in becoming solid
are capable of assuming regular polyhedral forms.
The third fact is that all crystalline bodies present
regular electrical poles. And \he fourth is, that the ele-
ments of bodies are capable of being separated from
each other by certain electrical attractions and re-
pulsions.

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Vol. I.
THE LIFE OF SIR HUMPHRY DAVY,

WITH A PORTRAIT.

** This Biography is admirably written — correct in its details, full of
instruction, and amusing throughout." — London Review.

Vol. II.

THE WHOLE OF SIR H. DAVY'S EARLY

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS,

FROM 1798 TO 1805;

WITH AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, AND OUTLINES

OF LECTURES ON CHEMISTRY, DELIVERED

IN 1802 AND 1804.

Vol. hi.

RESEARCHES,

CHEMICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL,

CHIEFLY CONCERNING NITROUS OXIDE, OR

DEPHLOGISTICATED NITROUS AIR,

AND ITS RESPIRATION.

Vol. IV.

ELEMENTS OF CHEMICAL PHILOSOPHY;

AS REGARDS THE LAWS OF CHEMICAL CHANGES :

UNDECOMPOUNDED BODIES AND THEIR

PRIMARY COMBINATIONS.

The Collected Works of Sir Humphry Davy.

Vol. V.

BAKERIAN LECTURES

AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS

FROM 1806 TO 1815.

Vol. VI.

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS AND RE- .

SEARCHES,

ESPECIALLY ON THE SAFETY LAMP, AND FLAME;

AND ON THE PROTECTION OF THE

COPPER SHEATHING OF SHIPS,

FROM -1815 TO 1828.

Vol. VII.

DISCOURSES DELIVERED BEFORE THE

ROYAL SOCIETY:

AND

ELEMENTS OF AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY,

PART I.

Vol. VIII.
ELEMENTS OF AGRICULTURAL CHEMISTRY,

PART IL

AND

MISCELLANEOUS LECTURES AND EXTRACTS
FROM LECTURES.

Vol. IX.
SALMONIA, OR, DAYS OF FLY-FISHING;

also

CONSOLATION IN TRAVEL,

OR, THE LAST DAYS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

*^* This new and uniform edition of the Writings of Sir Humphry
Davy, embraces the whole of his Works, during the space of thirty years
(1799 to 1829), a period memorable in the History of Chemistry, and in
no small part owing to his own Discoveries.

London : Printed by Stewart and Murray, Old Bailey.

The Collected Works of Sir Humphry Davy.

Vol. V.

BAKERIAN LECTURES

AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS

FROM 1806 TO 1815.

Vol. VI.

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS AND RE- .

SEARCHES,

ESPECIALLY ON THE SAFETY LAMP, AND FLAME;

AND ON THE PROTECTION OF THE

COPPER SHEATHING OF SHIPS,

FROM 1815 TO 1828.

Vol. VII.

DISCOURSES DELIVERED BEFORE ^ttt7

ROYAL SOCIETY:

SIR HUMPHRY

ELEMENTS OF AGRICULTURAL CHEI

PART I.

DAVY, Bart.

Vol. VIIT.
ELEMENTS OF AGRICULTURAL CHE]\ SALMONIA;

PART II. AND

AND

CONSOUTION

MISCELLANEOUS LECTURES AND EXTR ^xrrnAi^i?!
FROM LECTURES. IN TRAVLL

Vol. IX.
SALMONIA, OR, DAYS OF FLY-FISHING;

also

CONSOLATION IN TRAVEL,

OR, THE LAST DAYS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

*^* This new and uniform edition of the Writings of Sir Humphry
Davy, embraces the whole of his Works, during the space of thirty years
(1799 to 1829), a period memorable in the History of Chemistry, and in
no small part owing to his own Discoveries.

London : Printed by Stewart and Murray, Old Bailey.

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